Second Chance
by Armadilloi
Summary: Unauthorized by APR but he's not here...lol.  Same characters, different scenario about first meeting and first love.  Each has a secret life and they marry and things are great until their secret lives clash. Final chapter. Read the editor notes at end.
1. Chapter 1

Nik's Notes: Something a year or more old and totally unauthorized. He'll not be pleased. He's schoozing a client and I'm bored. No classes until 12/2. Enjoy. R&R.

Nik

* * *

Chapter One

Newly-minted CIA Agent Jennifer Burton drove out of LAX in her agency vehicle – a Porsche! She was very excited about her first real mission that didn't involve standing around the 'important agents' as part of their security screen. She'd spent a year in Virginia acting as a screen for other agents who were actually guarding and debriefing a high-ranking defector from the People's Republic of China. She got to accompany the wife on shopping trips. She hated shopping.

When Graham had recruited her, he'd dazzled her with stories of international intrigue and spy missions, implying but not promising that she herself might one day be an international spy. She'd hoped to get an international assignment but her aptitude tests showed her with a 'high protective instinct' quotient and the Agency assigned her to Individual Security Training, a complicated name for 'body guard training'.

She'd been through the Secret Service training program and maxed out all her training scenarios and had been vigorously courted by the federal protective detail but her mentor, Langston Graham, had steered her toward the CIA's protective division, again implying that international assignments awaited her.

Her training at the Farm had included courses not offered to the rank and file agents. She'd received intensive training in body language and 'personal persuasion', as well as doing an internship at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester learning her 'cover legend' as a physical therapist.

She'd had other experiences at the Mayo that weren't in her training outline. She'd lost her V-card to a dashing young intern and gotten her heart broken when he broke off their fledgling relationship. Jennifer Burton would not trust another man for quite a while, or so she told herself.

* * *

CIA Substation – Los Angeles

The assistant Chief of Station briefed her in and gave her a listing of 'approved' apartments but recommended that she stay at the CIA residential hotel 'until things shake out for you'.

"I don't understand what you mean, sir." She'd never heard the term before.

"Well, Agent Burton, this particular assignment is tentative, meaning that you may be here a month, a year, who knows. There are currently only 5 protective detailers and you're replacing an agent who moved up and is now on an overseas assignment. With your training and recommendations, you shouldn't be here more than a year before moving on."

She felt a thrill of excitement…the Big Show was finally in her grasp.

"Now, get situated, take a few days to get the lay of the land and then report to UCLA Continuing Ed for your cover training. You'll be using your skill set as a physical therapist as your cover but there are new and exciting advances being done here at UCLA and you should definitely stay on the cutting edge. You're already enrolled. Just go and pick up your class schedule."

"I'm going back to school? For how long?" She had visions of spending a semester in school again, not something she wanted. She wanted her assignment – now!

"Relax, Agent. It's a 3-month night course taught by an engineer who's doing the research on … well, take the course and find out. Your fellow agents have already taken the course for background purposes and tell me the instructor is…interesting. Ask Agent Miller. She's here as the DEA representative and does the debriefing of any drug-involved prisoners or defectors."

"And what do I do during the day? I mean, do I…"

"You'll be running scenarios, more training and assisting in interrogations at the Station Chief's request. I hope you're not squeamish, Agent Burton, because some of the detainees require a great deal of encouragement before they talk…but they always talk…eventually."

"I'm not. I just expected…hell, I don't know what I expected."

The senior agent laughed and then smiled sympathetically. "I'll bet Graham filled your head with visions of undercover work in exotic foreign capitols ferreting out the evil cabal's secrets, didn't he? Sorry, but most spy work is drudgery. Welcome, Agent Burton, to the CIA also known as Clowns in Action."

It wasn't the first time she'd heard the term, but never from a senior agent and never with such conviction. Her mind was reeling when he abruptly dismissed her to take a call.

His receptionist beckoned her over and handed her a 2-inch thick stack of forms and smiled sympathetically. She took in Jenny's appearance with an appraising glance, sighing because she knew this one, despite her enthusiasm would never reach her goal of an international assignment. She was too plain to send as a potential honey trap but probably attractive enough to rise in the domestic ranks if she didn't get married first. She'd be a 'long-termer' in Los Angeles.

"Welcome to LA, Agent Burton. We have a Happy Hour here every Wednesday night at the bar across the street. All of us girls assigned to WitSec duty get together and commiserate with one another and swap gossip and tales of our assignments. I don't normally do this but the regular girl got married and is on her honeymoon so I got stuck with it since I'm still in rehab."

She held up her arm revealing a fiberglass cast.

"Broke it diving from a car on the 5. I don't recommend it at all. Now, I'm not forcing you to come to Wednesday night 'tell all' but you'd be wise to show up and meet the troops outside of their roles, but it's your choice. Finish the forms and return them. Enjoy LA. I've seen worse towns – like Chernobyl."

Jennifer walked away carrying her two pounds of forms. '_Diving from a car on the 5? Chernobyl? And she's here in LA?'_ She walked to the conference room to finish her 'briefing in'.

It was Wednesday and she'd finally finished 'briefing in' and was looking forward to an assignment. She'd turned in her paperwork to the agent manning the receptionist desk and she reminded her about Happy Hour and renewed the invitation.

"Agent Burton, you'll find it very educational as well as entertaining. A few drinks in you and you'll feel right at home with the rest of old ladies. Listen and learn, Jenny. What you hear and learn might save your life someday. Better to gain the good judgment others gained through experience and bad judgment."

Jennifer Burton nodded and thanked her and left with no intentions whatsoever of attending Happy Hour but the thought of returning to her romance novel and a pizza at her hotel room influenced her decision. She'd go.

* * *

Tryst Lounge  
Los Angeles  
Happy Hour

She nodded to her fellow agents and ordered a drink and sat down. Everyone was talking at once but she managed to hear several 'gems of wisdom' and then one Agent shushed the others and announced 'we have a virgin in our midst. Say 'hello' to Agent Jennifer Burton!"

"This is Beth, Wendy, Judith and the skank on the end is Carina, our resident DEA liaison and lady-in-waiting for an NSA transfer and I'm Alexandra, the resident NSA skank if you listen to these wenches when I'm in the loo."

There was a round of greetings mixed with catcalls and then they settled down to gossiping about the station and it's male agents.

Carina rarely took her eyes off the new brunette with the icy blue eyes. She didn't trust easily and she didn't trust this one with any information at all. She was new, untested, and therefore a liability. Jenny easily read her body language as 'don't mess with me' and ignored her for the remainder of the evening until the conversation turned to their covers as 'caregivers and physical therapists' and a certain UCLA instructor.

"I'm telling you he's gay. I did everything but take these puppies out of my crop top and the most he did was to smile at me like I was some kind of challenged child. He's gay. No one can resist these." She was proudly pointing to her C-Cups as if they were God's gift to men.

The other girls all had similar comments except for one who didn't say a thing until the chatter regarding the man in question became abusive and bordered on the insane and obscene.

"He's not." Carina said this quietly but with authority. "Chuck is…great. You'd know that if you looked past his crotch and listened to what he says and the way he says it. He's in the zone, focused, when he's in class. He's there for a purpose and he has such a passion for his work."

"And I suppose you know this because you bagged him, Carina?" C-Cups snarked.

"No, I haven't bagged him, Wendy. He doesn't do 'casual sex'. We've dated, gone to dinner, dance clubs, made out like horny teenagers on his couch, on his boat, but mostly we do coffee and conversation. He's…nice. But broken. One of us broke his heart and he's stepped back and built his walls. You could see it if you looked into those brown eyes. They're old eyes filled with a lot of pain. But he's definitely _not_ gay, that I can guarantee you."

"Oh, Miller, you're such a skank. You just struck out like the rest of us have. You never even got past a first cup of coffee. Admit it." C-Cups wouldn't leave it alone.

Carina glanced at her watch and smirked at C-Cups. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. Nine minutes. He's incredibly anal about being on-time."

The others just looked at each other and then the gossip started up again on a new topic but Jenny noticed that each of them glanced at their watches or the big clock behind the bar more than before and all looked towards the door as it turned 7pm.

Carina suddenly stood, threw a $20 bill on the table and smiled. "I have to go. See you all next Wednesday. Jenny, be careful around these man eaters."

She grabbed her purse and shot Jenny a look she couldn't quite discern and then walked away. Jenny could clearly hear the brief conversation taking place a few feet behind her.

"Hey, honey. You didn't have to come in. I'd have…" Whatever else she might have said was smothered in a short but intense kiss that had those who could eyeball the situation without making it obvious looking on in envy.

"What kind of guy let's his best girl stand on a corner like a pro? I'm double-parked and the presentation starts at dusk. Ready, Carina?"

"Always, honey. I've never been to a planetarium before. Am I dressed OK?"

Jenny laughed. It was obvious that Carina didn't know what a 'planetarium' was and had no idea…well, that was her problem.

"You'd look good in a HazMat suit, Carina. C'mon, the planets and stars await us."

No one said anything until C-Cups summed up what everyone else but Jenny was thinking.

"That lucky bitch."

But it was Alexandra Forrest's response that stuck in her mind.

"It won't be his fault but it will happen, ladies. He's going to break her heart and soul and leave her broken on the rocks and it'll be her own damned fault. She's in love and is being reassigned soon. Spies shouldn't fall in love."

Her tone of voice sent a shiver down Jenny's spine. The voice of experience.

Later that night  
Westwood Condominium Complex

"Please, don't tease me. I want you, baby, and from bulge in your jeans, you want me, too."

"Carina, it's just too soon. I told you I don't do casual sex and it's what I meant. I…I just don't know how I feel about you to take that big a step. I'm sorry I let things go this far tonight but you're such a wonderful…"

"Stop. Just stop. I respect how you feel but this is just…" She stopped to catch her breath. "I love you, OK? I didn't mean for this to happen. I should know better, really, I should, but you just got past the walls and I'm toast. You're the nicest guy I've ever met and…"

She stopped when she saw the look on his face and then started gathering up her scattered clothes.

"It's not going to happen with us, is it? You're too damned scared to make an emotional commitment, aren't you? How long has it been since she tore your heart out, honey? Months? Years?"

She was softly crying, sorry she ever brought it up because she knew he'd break it off with her. He'd run and hide, licking old wounds, happy to have avoided new ones.

"Two years. Two years, five months and twenty-seven days, to be exact. We were engaged and she got involved with my best friend. End of story, Carina. I'll walk you to your car."

CIA Substation  
Interrogation Suites

It had been a week since the last Happy Hour and Jenny was pleased with how well she was adapting to life in LA and the substation. She'd pulled prisoner escort duty once and had observed Agent Carina Miller interrogating several narco-terrorists, that was the new handle for drug runners and distributors: narco-terrorists. Apparently it played better in the newspapers.

She was very impressed with how easily Agent Miller had eased past all their macho crap and begun digging out bits and pieces of information from the younger prisoners. She'd used her clothing and her posture to present a picture of a befuddled new agent who was nervous on her first interrogation. Worked every time until the oldest man just spit in her face.

Jenny was good with knives but Carina Miller was a Grand Master. After wiping the spit from her face she'd pulled a small thin knife from her sleeve and inserted it into the thug's nostril and cut open his nose.

A few more slices and twenty minutes later, she had all the information she needed. Other agents would transcribe the interrogation tapes and disseminate the information through the DEA and CIA systems.

Carina walked out of the interrogation 'suite' and looked at a shaken Jenny Burton and smiled sadly. "Sometimes you have to forget you're human. Heartache helps. And this," gesturing toward the interrogation room, "helps the heartache. Kind of a win-win situation."

Jenny didn't say anything, just scooped up her notes and pen and pushed out the door ahead of Agent Miller, trying not to let the other agent see the horror and disgust on her face. She didn't think she'd ever understand the intelligence business.

Two Weeks Later

Jenny was a few minutes late for the Happy Hour get-together but didn't think it would matter much. She found herself listening and evaluating more than participating and more than once someone, usually C-Cups, had asked her for her opinion or input. She usually said as little as was required to satisfy the 'participation' requirements.

Everyone was in place except Agent Carina Miller. Jenny eyed her chair and inclined her head towards Alex Forrest who simply mouthed 'gone'. So it was with this duty station. Here today, gone tomorrow. She wondered when her 'tomorrow' would ever come.

Conversation honed in on Miller and her attitude and her lack of social skills in at least saying goodbye to her friends. Alex snorted her drink and started coughing and Jenny handed her the napkin from under her drink.

"Thanks, Jenn. I can't believe you people expected her to say anything at all. It's the way it is around here and you newbies should have realized it by now. We're 'acquaintances' not 'friends'. Agents don't make friends or have real relationships. We're all of us just temporary help, nothing more. Get it through your heads. We aren't really here. The civilians we interface with aren't really here either. Neither of us exist together, or at least not for long. They have their existence and we have ours."

"Well, I heard she was really busted up about her breakup with the Hunk." C-Cups was not above dumping on a missing colleague. "Jenny, your classes started last week. What do you think of him? Is he gay? Or 'defective'?"

The way she said 'defective' made a couple of the others giggle and roll their eyes but a few looked down at their drinks or their watches or the clock behind the bar, unwilling to share their disdain and mockery.

"I don't have an opinion. He talked for 10 minutes and then popped a tape of a paraplegic with speech aphasia in the VCR and lectured on the case and background. Tomorrow night's a 'special' class in his lab. I'm reserving judgment."

Actually she did care. She figured she'd just be putting in her time as required by her assignment. His first lecture had caught her off-guard, surprising her by piquing her interest in a subject she used as a cover. She understood what Agent Miller had meant when she talked about 'passion'. His eyes grew more alive and his stance and gestures more animated as he warmed to his subject. She'd even asked questions as had most of the other students.

She was intrigued by the man. He seemed like such a contradiction in terms. He was an electrical engineer working in 'biomedical engineering'. She'd expected a geek with thick glasses and pens stashed in a pocket protector. She hadn't expected a tall man with a winning smile who dressed well and spoke with enthusiasm about his subject. Carina had been right. The man definitely was not gay. He'd 'scanned' her body, looked into her eyes and smiled shyly after they'd collided in the corridor outside the classroom.

"_I'm sorry, I wasn't looking. My mind was a thousand miles away." He'd bent down to help her pick up her notebook and purse that had spilled out of her arms and they'd collided again, her forehead hitting his nose hard enough that it started to bleed._

"_Oh, shit, I'm so sorry. Here, let me…" She'd picked up the purse-sized Kleenex packet from the junk scattered on the floor and was going to try and stop the bleeding but he just laughed, took the tissue from her and helped her up._

"_No, I think we've done enough damage to one another. You're going to be late for class and the instructor is an ass about tardies. Don't want you getting into trouble the first day." He turned and walked down the corridor to the men's room._

_She hurried in and took a seat down near the front of the stadium-style classroom. She looked at the clock and saw she'd just made it. He was right about one thing. She didn't want to draw attention to herself._

_It was three minutes after seven and the class was growing antsy. The instructor was late and that was a first. The girl next to her told her that he'd normally show up a minute or two early and start exactly on time. She smiled at Jenny, introduced herself and went on._

"_This is the third class of his I'm taking. He's really a great teacher and not bad on the eyes, either. You'd never know from looking at him that he'd been in a horrible accident and almost died, would you?"_

"_I don't know. I've never seen him. This is the only class I have to take…for certification." She leaned back and took out her notebook, trying to discourage her new 'friend'._

"_Well, let me just tell you…" but she never finished her sentence._

"_Sorry I'm late but I had an emergency to deal with. I'm getting clumsy in my old age." There was blood on his shirt and she felt a pang of guilt but just then they locked eyes and he smiled and she felt her face redden in a blush. She'd felt an instance of 'connection' before he'd turned and surveyed the rest of the class. _

"_I walked into a door and I'm a slow clotter. Now, I'm Charles Bartowski and we're going to start this lecture series with…"_

_Nik's Notes: Let me know if you all want to read more. If not I can just delete it and there's no one the wiser._

_NikB_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Nik's Notes: thx to all who reviewed. Nice to see there are really people out there. So, here's part 2. If any of you get bored, let me know. I always wanted to delete a story. Power!

* * *

Biomedical Engineering Classroom  
UCLA  
Los Angeles, CA

After the 2nd lecture, Jenny boldly confronted her instructor and asked him to coffee.

"It's the least I can do since I broke your nose with a head butt." She laughed at the look on his face. It was obvious that this was a novel situation for him.

They drove to a coffee shop in separate cars and talked, and talked. She was relaxed and engaging while he seemed a little nervous and unsure of himself.

"Chuck, relax. This isn't a job interview. I just wanted to get to know someone who wasn't a coworker, that's all. I don't have a boyfriend and the people I work with, well, almost all of them are single women and it's like swimming in a pool of piranhas when we socialize."

"Ah, the infamous Wednesday Happy Hour. Carina told me about those sessions. And by the way, I'm not gay. Just particular. Is that what this is, Jenny? A reconnaissance and a report to the Wednesday meeting of the man eaters?" There was just enough of a smile on his face to make it not quite an insult.

"No. I just wanted to get to know you. Coffee seemed like a nice ice breaker but I guess I was wrong." She started gathering up her things to leave.

"Wait. I'm sorry. It's just that I don't normally have beautiful women, well, any women, ask me out for coffee. I'm sorry. Please don't leave unless you want to."

She settled back down and they talked until the waitress hinted that she'd like to go home sometime before the sun came up. Laughing, they walked to the parking lot.

"So, are you going to give me a good report on Wednesday?" There was that damned almost-smile again.

"It depends on how dinner goes Friday night. Pick me up at 7. Casual dress. Here's my address. Please don't be late." She threw down the gauntlet.

"Um, sorry, can't. How about Saturday? Unless you're busy with work or have a date or…"

"Chuck! Relax, will ya? Saturday's fine." It _was_ fine with her. It would give her a day extra to prepare for her first date since graduating from the Farm. She normally didn't 'date' at all. It just seemed like a waste of time considering the pool of men available to her – until now. She liked this guy. He was quiet and unassuming and easy on the eyes. He looked into her eyes when he spoke and not at her boobs. A nice change.

Saturday

She was applying the last of her makeup when he called from the lobby and told her it was 6:55 but that the doorman would allow him to come up without her OK.

Shit! She'd forgotten about security. "I'll be right down. This place is anal about residents' safety. Sorry, I forgot all about it. Just give me two minutes plus elevator time, Chuck." She ended the call with a laugh, took one more look in the mirror and checked that she had her small back-up weapon in her purse and knives in place.

She'd asked around the office and selected a modest Italian restaurant. They had reservations for 8pm and she wanted some time with him before they ate. She was nervous. She hoped he wouldn't notice.

Chuck's breath caught in his throat when she got off the elevator. Her hair was done up in a tight bun and she was wearing body-hugging designer jeans and a loose blouse, topped off by high-heeled leather boots. All very nice. He'd never seen a more beautiful woman and he immediately felt his insecurities rise to the fore.

"My, don't you look beautiful. I mean, oh, hell. You look incredible, Jenny. I'll spend all night beating off the guys. So, where are we going?" He hoped he didn't blow it with this one. She was so far out of his league and he was flustered and would probably insert his size 13 into his mouth if he continued babbling.

"Thanks. Lose the tie. I did say casual, Chuck. Now, I'm driving but you're navigating. Here's the address. Let's go. I'm hungry and I hope you don't think I'm a pig but I skipped lunch and I'm weak with hunger. Feed me, Chuck, before I go into the light." She meant it as a joke but somehow she knew she'd gone over the top with the 'into the light' comment.

"Good. I like a woman who eats food. No tofu or sprouts for me. I know this restaurant. You'll love the food there. And the wine. Let's roll."

The dinner was superb and Jenny drank a couple of glasses of the house White but stopped when she noticed he wasn't drinking.

"Not a drinker, Chuck?" She didn't mean it as an accusation but it sounded that way to her and she winced.

"Not anymore. I'm not an alcoholic or anything but booze and my family don't mix well. Um, not at all, really. My sister and her fiancé were killed by a drunk long haul trucker on their way up to see me graduate from Stanford. Haven't had anything to drink since then, but don't let me stop you from enjoying the wine."

She reached across the small table and held his hand. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Chuck. Your parents must have been devastated and on such a happy occasion."

He snorted. "Parents? My mom left us when I was a teenager and my dad flaked out and went out one night and never came back. Ellie and I managed but it was rough. I miss her, Jenny. She was my best friend and I feel responsible. Graduation wasn't a big deal to me but it was to her."

She squeezed his hand and reached over and prodded the corners of his mouth into a smile with a manicured fingertip.

"Hey, it's OK to miss them, Chuck, but it's even better to remember the good times and live your life as best you can. You have a nice smile. Use it more often around me. Please?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to spoil the mood."

"It's OK. At least you had your sister for a while. I'm an only child and my parents split up when I was very young and somehow I got shifted from relative to relative so I envy you the time you had with her. I've had no one in my life for so long it seems…"

"Hey. Let's change the subject. We're supposed to be having a good time, not wallowing in a pile of pity. So, tell me all about Jenny Burton. Your file is almost bare except for the specifics required for admission."

She felt uncomfortable. _He's seen my file? Oh, my school file._

She told her the cover back story the agency had provided, embellishing a little here and there with her own experiences. It didn't take long.

"What are you doing tomorrow, Jenny? I'd like to take you skydiving if you're OK with it. I try and go as often as my schedule and the weather and my money allow and since I just got a grant renewal, I'm pretty flush. Want to go?"

"Yes! I've never been skydiving but it looks like fun. Count me in but – I pay my own way tomorrow, OK? Don't want you to think I'm a gold-digger."

"Nope. My treat. I want to show the guys at the field that I can catch a beauty just like anyone else."

She blushed and squeezed the hand she'd never let go of after the revelation of his sister's death.

"Great. I'll pick you up at 7am and we'll grab some breakfast and head up to the field."

He kissed her good night in the parking lot and walked her into the lobby. She wanted him to come up in the worst kind of way but knew it was too soon to get physical. She'd learned a lesson from Carina Miller about dealing with Chuck. 'Don't push."

* * *

The next morning was a beautiful fall California day and the trip to the airfield took only a half hour. Jenny went through 'ground school', took her test and then they scheduled their first jump for 10am.

'_I should have just said that I've jumped before. I have jumped before. At the Farm. Still, this is fun pretending I'm just a normal girl out with a great guy. He's not trying to impress me at all and I really like that.'_

The bulls eye they were shooting for looked about as big as a period on a paper from 3,000 feet. Chuck tried to get her to jump in tandem for her first time but she insisted on going solo.

"OK, but you have to use the barometric altimeter and auto-open feature. Safety first, Jenny. Don't want to lose you on the first jump." He grinned and she just shot him the bird. It was hard talking to someone standing in the door of an aircraft going 130 knots. Gestures were sometimes more meaningful.

She stepped out and assumed the star-fish position that she'd been told to use. She resisted the urge to go 'acrobatic' and do some flips and aerial maneuvers. This was supposed to be her first jump but it was actually more like her 20th. Her altimeter was set to open her chute at 1,500 feet, giving her a lot of float time to enjoy the jump.

Chuck swooped down on her and twisted until he was beneath her and he reached up and put her hand on the reserve D-ring. He spread his arms and legs out, mimicking her position and drew closer to her. He reached up and pulled her down for a quick kiss and a laugh and then ducked down and brought his arms and legs against his sides and dove down towards the field.

Jenny was shocked but pleased as hell that he'd kissed her and then laughed. Progress. He seemed so open and was laughing all the time when he was with her. Not at all like Carina had described him although she was looking at him through rose-colored glasses. She knew Carina had really been serious about Chuck and he'd broken it off over sex.

She looked down and saw his form diving toward the ground and she was instantly concerned that he was experiencing 'ground fixation' where the free fall jumper became fixated on the ground and didn't deploy the chute until it was too late, if at all.

She tried to disable her auto-open device and dive down to 'rescue' him but her chute deployed at that exact instant. She checked for a full canopy and then looked around for Chuck. He was far below her and dangerously close to the ground. She grabbed her risers and tried to spill air from her canopy to hasten her descent but she'd been issued a 'training chute' and she couldn't pull off her maneuver.

She just watched in horror as he fell closer and closer to the point where even if he fully deployed his canopy it wouldn't make any difference in the outcome.


	3. Chapter 3

Nik's Notes: Only half of you read the 2nd chapter and that upsets me. This is good stuff. Well, no wonder he's slow to update. I go back to professing tomorrow so enjoy this last one for a while.

* * *

Chapter3

Chuck looked at his altimeter and grinned. He was going for 400' feet and felt great. He'd watched her chute fully deploy and then put his head down and planed his body toward the target. At 400' he pulled his main and by 300' his descent had slowed to what most called 'normal'. Grasping the toggles, he steered his chute toward the target and landed exactly in the center in a stand-up maneuver. It was his best jump ever and it was turning out to be a fantastic day.

He looked around, craning his neck and spotted Jenny's chute about 400' from the ground but a good ¼ mile from the target. He asked one of the ground crew to drive out and pick her up. He didn't want her bitching about the walk. He wanted her excited about the drop.

Chuck walked over the chute shed and to the drop board and saw his friend, Kenny, writing down his altitude and target score. He was in first place at last. No one would have the balls to open below 400' and still thread the needle like he did. The nearest competitor was at 600' with a 5' mark.

"Y'know, Chuck, you're going to be our first fatality if you try and better that mark. I don't want to bar you from the field but I will if I don't have your word that '400 dead center' is the limit. I mean it. I will bar you."

"Fine, Kenny. I don't think anyone can best it anyways. I promise not to break 400'. But I won't promise not to do it again."

Kenny threw him the finger and a look of disgust but saw the new jumper coming into the shed and kept his mouth shut.

He was admiring his placement and didn't hear her enter the chute shed. She stood behind him, seeing a new Chuck Bartowski – the one who rode the edge, the thrill seeker and dare devil.

Jenny tapped him on the shoulder and when he turned around she kissed him hard, her tongue tapping his lips for admittance. She held him as closely as she could and didn't want to let go until her temper was under control. He'd scared the crap out of her and she told him so.

"You didn't tell me you were suicidal, Bartowski! You didn't tell me you thumb your nose at the Grim Reaper every time you jump. Four hundred feet is suicidal. You wouldn't even have time to _think _about your reserve if something…mmmf." He stopped her rant with his lips and this time it was his tongue gently tickling her lips. She opened her mouth and deepened the kiss and finally they needed oxygen.

"I didn't mean to scare you, Jenny. Let's get changed and get some lunch. I guess I'm not used to having someone around who gives a damn. Unless you were just worried about a ride home?" His eyes twinkled and she couldn't stay mad at him.

In a small voice she almost whispered, "I just found you, Chuck Bartowski, and I'd like it if you stuck around a while before augering into the countryside."

"I'm going to dump you off at your place and then pick you up again about 6pm for dinner at Chez Bartowski. Steaks, baked potatoes, salad, and if you want wine, bring it. Very casual clothes, Jenn, no need to get all spruced up on my account. OK?"

"Works for me. I need a shower and a change of drawers, Chuck Bartowski. You scared the crap out of me!" She laughed at his expression. He looked ashamed but pleased all at the same time.

She followed his directions and arrived at the gated condo complex in Westwood with a few minutes to spare. She checked her makeup and did a little fooling with her hair and knocked on his door at precisely 6:59pm.

"You know you can be a few minutes late, beautiful, if you always look this wonderful. C'mon in. Steaks are marinating and all you need to do is make the salad while I burn the meat. The bathroom's down the hall for future reference. Mi casa es tu casa."

She looked around and smiled. It was so "Chuck". Organized, efficient but with comfortable furniture and bookshelves full of books, photographs and trophies. She homed in on the framed photos and looked at each one.

"That's Ellie and Devon and a college… friend of mine. We were skiing up at Tahoe when I took that. That was a horrible year for me. Lost everyone I loved in the same year." He looked lost for a moment and she put an arm around his waist and drew him closer.

"I've had bad years too, Chuck. You just have to hold on to the good memories and let the bad float away with time. They do, eventually."

"Yeah, eventually. So, what do you think of my 'I love me' wall? Pretty disgusting, huh?"

"Oh, I don't know. You're not bragging. It's your history and achievements. I'm impressed, Mr. Bartowski. You competed in the cross-country skiing and marksmanship Olympic trials? Very impressive. I haven't been skiing in a long time. Not really crazy about the cold."

Winter survival training and cross-country skiing were her vilest memories of the Farm. The training at Ft Drum in New York had been a bitter time for her.

"I have a timeshare lodge at Tahoe. Maybe we could get another couple and go skiing sometime?" Actually, he owned it outright but didn't want to appear like he was bragging. He had no idea of her financial condition and didn't want to lord his situation over her. He was 'comfortable'.

"Another couple? Why?"

"Um, it's only got a single bedroom but has a loft. I'm not suggesting…"

"That sounds nice. No other couple though. I don't share my guy with anyone. I'm very territorial, Chuck. You should know that in advance. Not jealous, just territorial."

"Oh, well, yeah, OK. We'll have to check our schedules and see about it some weekend. Maybe between Christmas and the New Year? That is if you don't have plans…" _Dumb. She probably has plans_.

"Sounds great. I don't like the holidays that much. No family and few friends. A lonely time."

"Well, we're friends. We'll be miserable together." He smiled to take any inference out of his statement. Damn! Open mouth, insert foot.

"If we're together, Chuck, I won't be miserable. Yeah. Christmas in the mountains. I'm in."

* * *

They dated almost every weekend when their schedules allowed. Chuck had to go back East at Thanksgiving and he'd missed out spending the holiday with her. She worked a double shift babysitting a Federal witness along with Judith and Alexandra.

Alexandra pulled the three Lean Cuisines out of the microwave and plopped them in front of her colleagues.

"It's not turkey and dressing but it beats MREs all to hell. Judith, go check on our guest's IV drip after you eat. The Fibbies will be by in the morning to pick her up. They'll transport her by ambulance and the plan is to keep her doped until the night before her court date. No risk of her suiciding."

After a meal eaten in companionable silence, Judith went to check on their guest leaving Alex and Jenny alone.

"How's things going with the Hunk, Jenny? You seem happy and are adjusting to L.A. pretty well."

"We're doing fine. Going slow. He's…Alex, I've broken the rule. I love him. He feels something for me, too, just not sure what. I catch him looking at me and he seems so…sad."

"He's afraid of an emotional commitment, Jenny. Carina told us all that he just couldn't commit. Have you looked into those eyes and seen the pain I talked to you all about? Maybe he's getting better. He's good for you and you're apparently tolerable to him." She knew that the others were jealous of Jenny and her Chuck.

"We've dated exclusively since I met him. We've gone skydiving, sailed on his boat, done the museum tours, even talked about a weekend in Las Vegas but to me the big commitment is Christmas. We're going to Tahoe between Christmas and New Year. I've cleared the schedule. He's back East at some consulting job he got at the last minute."

"So, take it slow. Be prepared for a change of assignment at any time. You have to know it could come any time and probably at the least convenient time for you. You get one waiver, Jenny, and can opt for a two-year assignment here but it'll put a real crimp in your career."

"I'll take the waiver if it means spending more time with him. I'm becoming addicted to him. He's so different when we're together. It's like he's another guy entirely. And he's so competitive."

She told Alex about the free fall experience and how he'd deployed at 400' and made it to the top of the 'leader board'.

"He's competitive and a perfectionist. Sounds like another guy I know from the Agency. Those two would either get along famously or kill each other. Would be interesting to watch. I'd bring popcorn."

Alex was thinking about her old boyfriend, now somewhere in the Middle East. Their tour in the Balkans had been a professional triumph but a personal disaster and she often regretted her actions.

* * *

Officer's Open Mess  
FT Meade, MD

"So, Chuck, tomorrow Colonel Beckman's going talk to you about a full-time commitment to the Agency. What do you think you'll say?"

John Casey was loosely partnered to Charles Bartowski, who was classified as an asset of the National Security Agency specializing in codes and ciphers. Casey always laughed at that description. He 'specialized' in sabotaging enemy computer systems, compromising them with viruses and looting them of their data and destroying them if it became necessary.

He liked the Cardinal, as Chuck was known 'professionally'. He wasn't a pussy or a diva like some of the other assets. He was more of an operative than he realized. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty if it was required for the job. Sometimes he had to get his hands bloody and although not thrilled about it, he pulled it off with a certain style and panache. And best of all he didn't whine and moan about it. Casey _really_ liked that about him.

"I like my life the way it is, Big John. I have my work at UCLA, this part-time 'consulting gig' and I finally met someone that I really like. Why would I want to screw it up with a full-time involvement? I'll respectfully pass on her offer."

Casey sighed and lit a cigar, pushing his plate away. "And if you weren't given a choice, Chuck? If it was 'my way or the Stairway'?" The term 'Stairway' referred to a song 'Stairway to Heaven', meaning a sanction or 'protective custody'.

"Why would she do that? The Colonel's not going to piss in the soup, John. I've never turned down an assignment. I'm more fussy about security than most. I don't ever discuss my involvement with the Agency outside of these walls. I see no reason for her to lay it out that way. Do you know something you're not telling me, Major Casey?"

"No, just fishing. You're not as predictable as most are and I don't like unpredictable people, Chuck. No offense. Beckman's even worse that I am about such things. She likes people pinned down and predictable, that's all."

He thought back to his first meeting with Bartowski a few weeks before he graduated from Stanford. Beckman had made the very rare foray outside of FT Meade to personally recruit Bartowski before the CIA got their hooks into him. Casey had accompanied her to meet his 'occasional partner'.

"_Mr. Bartowski, your transcript is very impressive. Top Five in your class. I'm sure you're wondering why you were scheduled for this 'job interview' and that's what it is. We'd like to offer you a position in the Agency working in our Special Projects Division. Your 'hacking skills' have not gone unnoticed, although they have gone unprosecuted – at my personal direction."_

"_Ah, ma'am, we penetrated your systems by accident. I was looking for some coding to aid in a biomedical project and somehow I found myself directed to your secure website portal. I pulled out as soon as I saw where I was…"_

"_Yes, and you never returned. Why not?"_

"_None of my business and it wasn't what I was looking for."_

"_I see…so you can keep your big mouth shut, as well. That's a plus. Look, Bartowski, your country needs your skills and we pay quite well." She slid a pay schedule over to him and his eyes widened slightly as he took in the amounts._

"_Ma'am, I want to work in the biomedical engineering field. I see great opportunities to help people…"_

"_How many people, Mr. Bartowski? Just curious. Ten? One hundred? One or two thousand? How about helping 300 million live normal lives?"_

_He had thought about it and was about to say 'no' again but she'd anticipated his response based on his tests. There was a niche for him in Special Projects although not right at the moment so…_

"_Part-time, Mr. Bartowski, as a consultant. A few days every once in a while doing what you did to my layered-defense so-called 'hacker proof' system. And you'd be paid pro rata on the scale before you. A month or two of training and then you'd be on-call for special projects."_

"_OK, where do I sign up?" _

* * *

NSA HQ  
FT Meade, MD

Casey had been right. Colonel Diane Beckman did offer him a full time job with the Agency and did offer him few if any choices. Actually she'd said that his grants would disappear, the NIH would suddenly find 'fraud' in his record keeping and he'd lose his job and all those nice things he had as a result.

"With all due respect, General, no thanks. I'm happy where I am. I've never turned down an assignment and I have no intention of doing so in the future. I was wrong last night. You _are_ going to piss in the soup, General."

Beckman fixed him with her 'glare of death' that usually made people in her office kowtow and bend to her wishes but not Bartowski. _'It's my soup, young man, and we need you and your team more than once or twice a year. You'll bend or I'll break you.'_

"Bring on your auditors and take your grant money and stuff it where the sun doesn't shine. You'll find that I haven't _touched_ your money to fund my research. If there's nothing else, I'll get out of your hair. I'm sure you have much on your schedule as usual."

He stood up to leave for probably the last time. She'd shoved and he'd shoved back, not something she was used to or even allowed.

'_Damn him! I'll have him in Elko so fast it'll make his head spin. I'll make him so damned miserable…crap. Damned Constitution.'_

"Bartowski, wait. OK, we'll work around your schedule and your personal life where possible. You'll accept a position as Field Analyst for the books but go through a compressed training cycle. We need your skills, Charles. There's a new threat called Fulcrum that is gutting the intelligence community. Defections, assassinations and turmoil are their hallmarks. We need your help. You'll work with an expanded team headed by Major Casey."

He heard the unspoken 'please' and agreed. He had no choice, really, and he knew it. She'd appealed to the 'savior' in Chuck using his sense of responsibility and love of country against him.

"One thing, General. My personal life is off-limits. I've met someone through the University and it's serious. No interference, OK? If we're in agreement, the I accept your kind offer."

The room was thick with tension and his sarcasm did little to relieve it.

_Tough. They need me more than I need them. She knows about the files and knows I'll dump them to the Times and every other news rag if she screws me._

"Fine. Talk with Major Casey. You'll need to clear your schedule for 2 months after the first of the year. Major Casey will coordinate your training schedule and 'work around' your personal issues, I'm sure."

He felt the daggers in his back when he left her office. She didn't like him but she needed him. The funny thing about it was that he really liked the General and admired her work ethic and dedication to her job. Casey had laughed when he told him that and said he was 'nuts'.

* * *

He called Jenny from Reagan International airport and asked her if she would mind picking him up at LAX later in the afternoon. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted her honest opinion about an opportunity that he'd been presented with. Of course she agreed. She'd missed him even though he'd only been gone a few days.

* * *

LAX  
Arrivals

Chuck and Casey nodded and each headed his own way. Jenny had already called bitching about the traffic and said she was a few minutes late and not to hate her. Her almost legendary tardiness was a running joke between them.

Chuck threw his bag into the backseat of her car and leaned over for a brief welcome home kiss. Jenny just smiled and said "Later. We have reservations and we'll have plenty of time to say 'hello' properly, Chuck."

"Reservations? Where? It's a little early for dinner, Jenn."

"You'll see. Now, put the seat back and catch up on your sleep. You look stressed, baby. Maybe you need to rethink this consulting stuff. They jerk you out of my life entirely too frequently for my liking. I like my predictable Chuck."

"Jenny, that's something I wanted to talk with you about. About being 'jerked out of your life' as you put it. That's sweet, babe, but it pays a lot of bills and there's a big future in what I do."

"So what's the big secret? Oh, no. You're leaving L.A., aren't you? That's what you couldn't talk about on the phone. How long until you move, Chuck? Will we at least have Christmas together?"

"I'm not leaving Jenny. We'll have our Christmas in the mountains but…but I have to take off for at least 8 weeks sometime after the first of the year. It's a long-term engagement in Europe. I just can't pass up the opportunity."

Her knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel of her Porsche. She felt the pressure from unshed tears and blinked rapidly to hold them off.

_He's leaving me for 2 whole months. I missed him so bad and he wasn't even gone a week. __How am I going to handle him gone for two months? Is this his 'I just want to be friends' moment?_

He wasn't an idiot. He saw how she'd reacted to the news that he was going to be gone for two months. It made him happy in a strange way. Maybe she felt the same way about him that he felt about her.

"Jenny, I didn't mean to upset you. I should have waited until after dinner when we were alone and you weren't distracted by driving. Don't be mad at me, Jenn."

"I'm not mad. I'm not. I'm just…I missed you. You just came home and you're leaving again for _two_ months and I…"

"Pull over into that strip mall, Jenn. There's something I have to do. It's important. I should have done this before but I wasn't sure about some things."

"Wha…" He stifled whatever she was going to ask with a quick peck on the lips. "Patience, Jennifer. Patience." He unfolded himself from her car, hating all things cramped – especially cars, and walked briskly to a hardware store returning fifteen minutes later with a small bag.

"Thanks. I needed some things for tonight." He looked smugly ahead and gestured with his hand for her to 'go'. She fought the urge to strangle him right there in the car. He could be so damned obtuse at times.

"Tonight? But I had plans…a catered dinner in my suite and then I thought we'd go dancing…"

"This caterer…call him and give him my address. I've got music there. We'll have our dinner and our privacy and we'll be free to discuss these issues at our own pace. I don't want to share you with anyone tonight, Jenn, not even strangers at a club. Please?"

His tone of voice had an almost pleading quality and she made a snap decision and pulled out her phone.

"This is Burton. Change of plans. Same time, different location." She rattled off Chuck's address and then snapped her phone shut and looked over at him. She'd put satin sheets on the bed and had things all lined out for 'Burton seduces Bartowski'.

Maybe it was just as well they'd be at his place considering he was probably going to dump her. She could leave when she needed to and not have to wait until he left her suite before she disintegrated into an emotional mess.

They pulled into Chuck's condo complex and she found a spot right in front. _Good. I'll just have to hang on 50 feet until I get to my car before crying. I got my pride._

Chuck led the way and then stood at the door looking at her with a pensive expression on his face that she'd never seen before, almost like he was making decisions.

She made one of her own.

"Chuck, is this where you tell me you just want to be 'friends'? Because if it is, then get it over with and I'll leave now. You can enjoy dinner and have leftovers." She looked up at him, waiting.

"I didn't plan to do this quite like this, Jenn, but I can see from your body language that I'd better do it now." He opened the bag and handed her a key case. When she looked at him, dumbfounded, he opened the case and selected a key and held it up, dangling from the case by the metal hook.

"This is the condo key and this one is the key to the SUV." He selected another. "This is the key to the marina and beside it is the key to the boat's cabin and sail lockers." He held up another. "This is the key to the lodge at Tahoe." One more. "This is the key to my office."

She stared at him, not understanding him at all. Why…

"Jenny, I want you to look after things while I'm gone. Please. I – I want to know that you're here, in _our_ place, waiting for me when I get back. I want us to be together and I want to share all I have with you. I love you, Jenny Burton, I need and want you in my life."

'_He's not dumping me. He wants me to move in! He's giving me everything he has, full access?'_

"I want you to move out of that sterile suite and move in with me. I can help you move Saturday. Please?" _She's just looking at me like I'm a stranger. Have I made a mistake?_

"No, Chuck."

He was crushed and it showed. He'd made another judgment error and this one really hurt. She didn't share his feelings. He tried to extract himself from this humiliating situation as smoothly as he could.

"OK. I guess you don't feel the same about me as…" His body language screamed _'Run!' _

She interrupted whatever he was going to say by placing two fingertips on his lips. "I can move in right now. Or tonight after dinner. All I own fits into two American Touristers and a couple of cardboard boxes. I don't have a lot of 'Jenny' stuff. But you only have one bedroom, Chuck."

"Oh, um, well, uh, yeah, I only have…"

"Shut up and kiss me, you big idiot. We'll just take it slow, baby; we've got time to get it right. Oh, yeah, I love you, too, Chuck. _Now_ can I kiss you hello?"

Nik's Notes 2: Last for a while. Don't know when I'll feel appreciated enough to bother with it. Nicole.


	4. Chapter 4

Nik's Notes: I feel very lurved. I feel the lurve. Now keep it coming. I got exams to grade and I need the distraction. Idiot freshman forgot everything they learned since middle school I swear. Wanna read another chapter before Tuesday? Review and write nice things about how his words send you off into another world...lol He'll be back on the 18th and then it's back to his 'new' old stuff. Nicole

* * *

Chapter4

They'd driven back to her suite in his SUV and she'd packed and boxed up her stuff in less than 30 minutes. She was right. She didn't have a lot of 'Jenny Burton' stuff.

Chuck pointed to his walk-in closet and his instructions were clear and well thought out.

"Your stuff goes wherever you want it. I'll clear out a couple of drawers while you hang up your things. If you need more room, let me know. I got crap here I haven't worn for years."

The closet was almost bare except for suits, dress shirts and ties and some unfamiliar equipment hanging from hooks on the back wall. It took her only a few minutes to put her stuff away.

She stood around, clearly nervous, and watched him sort out some clothing and repack his dresser drawers. He'd given her to top three drawers of the dresser and also had taken the time to reorganize the bathroom vanity with its double sinks to allow her total access to the cabinets. He'd remembered how his Ex had bitched about not having enough room for her 'cosmetics' and he wanted to avoid that at all costs.

"Chuck, you don't have to reorganize your life to suit me. I don't have a lot…"

"Jenny, this is your home and I want you to have anything you want and I want you to feel comfortable. It's _our_ place, and you're not a visitor here, Jenn. OK?"

She'd never had a place of her own until joining the CIA and even then, it was theirs not hers. She felt the pressure of tears and she felt something in her chest swell. _Ours._

She pushed him down on the bed and straddled him, looking at his face with love and wonder. _Our place. I'm not a visitor. I'm home._

He put his arms around her and held her, rolling them onto their sides, looking at her struggle not to cry.

"Too much? Too fast? Too soon, Jenny?" He was worried he'd pushed her someplace she didn't really want to be. _Damn. I can be so needy and insecure and I must have pushed her too hard for this._

"No, baby. I'm just overwhelmed. I thought you were going to break up with me and that you were using the consulting thing as a way and I'm so glad I was wrong. I love you and I love how you say _our_ place, _our_ stuff, _our_ home. I'm so damned happy, Chuck, I could cry. I love you, Chuck, really and truly and I'll never stop."

They were both nervous. It had been a long time for both of them and neither were all that experienced. Chuck's ex-fiancé had pretty much driven the sex boat although she did have a wide variety of tastes and preferences. His wasn't the only V-card she'd mounted on her trophy wall.

Jenny had the one disastrous relationship with a guy who just wanted another notch in his conquest belt and didn't care how he got it. Once he got between her legs and the novelty wore off, he moved on, forgetting his promises and intentions.

Chuck brushes the tears from her cheeks with his thumb and lightly kisses her and then realizes where they are.

"Um, uh, why don't you use the shower now and I'll clear the wreckage from dinner. Won't take me too long, honey, but take your time. I have some emails to review and answer regarding my grant research and I need to clear them off my To Do list."

He rolls off the bed and goes into his office, leaving the door ajar so he can hear her if she needs anything.

_Shit! Towels! I didn't show her where the linens are kept!_

He walks back into the bedroom to tell her where the towels are, figuring she's in the bathroom already but she's not. She's standing in front of 'her' side of the dresser selecting sleepwear or something but he only notices that she's naked.

"Oh, crap, I'm sorry, Jenny, I didn't mean…" He was blushing furiously and turned and rapidly walked to the door, his eyes squeezed tightly shut but his mind still processing the image of her beautiful body – and he walks right into the edge of the open door.

"Ouch! Shit! Damn!" He sits on the bed and pinches his nose trying to stem the blood. He always bleeds like a stuck pig when his nose…

"Here, baby, lean back and tilt you head back. I've got you, Chuck. I've never made this much of an impression on any man. I guess I should be flattered. Two 'encounters' and you almost bleed out as a result."

He feels his head nestled against her chest and the gentle pressure she applies stops the bleeding in a few minutes. He doesn't notice. He's too damned embarrassed. She must think he's a pervert or something.

"Jenny, I was just coming back to tell you where the extra towels are. I didn't mean to…"

"Hey, Chuck, relax. If we're going to be living together I hope that being naked is a frequent occasion. I love you and that implies intimacy, you big goof. I'm flattered you got so unhinged…" Her laughter makes him smile and he has to laugh.

"Jenny, you're only the second woman I've ever…I mean, hell, I'm not a Don Juan and I don't have a belt hidden in my room that has notches carved in it. If I did then it's a good thing it's hidden because there's only one notch in it and that's ancient history."

"Then we have something else in common, baby. I've only been with one other man and it was a complete and utter disaster. It's why I'm so…guarded sometimes."

"Good. We'll learn each other's pleasures, likes and dislikes together. Um, uh, I think it's stopped bleeding." He started to get up but she stopped him, holding him and sighing.

"Chuck, I feel cheated. You've seen me in all my naked glory and except for that time on the boat when you wore a bathing suit, you're still a mystery to me – your body I mean. Oh, crap. This is going all wrong and I'm going to screw it all up. Get naked, Bartowski, and shower with me. It's like a cold swimming pool. It's easier to just dive in than to wade in an inch at a time."

"I can't, Jenny."

"Why not?" There was a plaintive sound to her voice. She sounded like a little girl. What did he think living together implied? A long term sleep-over?

"You're holding me down, Jenn." His statement delivered in a flat matter-of-fact tone drove her over the edge. All the tension of the moment evaporated into laughter. He liked that about her. She laughed when she got nervous. She laughed when something was funny. She laughed after they'd kissed for the first time.

"Sorry. Here, let me help you up. Yeah, it's quit bleeding. I'm really sorry about that. I wasn't trying to shock you. I was looking for a matching pair and I guess my mind wandered. That happens when I'm happy, Chuck, so I figure it'll wander a lot 'cause you make me very happy."

She pulls him to his feet and then unbuttons his shirt. He's looking into her eyes the entire time, trying to ignore the naked body south of her eyes. She slips the shirt from his shoulders and then unbuckles his belt by touch. She doesn't want to break eye contact with him.

He puts his hands on her forearms and she thinks he's going to stop her but he slides them up her to her shoulders and then into her long brunette hair and brings her lips to his. She's quick to push down his jeans and boxers and begins leading him to the bathroom but they fall onto the bed instead with Chuck lying on her, still kissing her but laughing.

"Jenny, I have to take off my shoes. It's hard to move with my jeans and shorts around my ankles. Gimme a minute." He toes off his shoes then whips off his socks and pulls her to her feet.

"_Now_ lets hit the showers, Jenny." He turns and walks slowly towards the bathroom trying to walk like a stripper and failing miserably. She snorts a giggle and then dissolves into fits of laughter.

"Oh, Chuck, you'll never be a Chippendale Dancer, that's for sure." It's only when he walks into the well-lighted bathroom that she sees the scars on his back.

_So that's why he kept his t-shirt on when we were on the boat. I thought it was because he didn't want to sunburn or he was just shy about his body but it's not. It's because of scarring. Now I remember something that girl told me about him being in an accident._

She follows him quickly and he opens up a linen closet in the hall way and then stands beside the shower stall and unfolds two large and fluffy towels. He turns around and sees the look on her face and knows what's put it there. Damn it all!

"I was in an industrial accident on a consulting gig. A transformer blew out when we were working on a new power supply and I got pretty banged up with bits and pieces of the housing. Spent some time in the hospital but it's all good now. I guess I should have told you about it but I forgot about them, honest."

The truth was that he and Casey had infiltrated a missile launch facility in Iran and were in the process of destroying the site's computer system and refueling equipment when the timer on some explosives malfunctioned and the resulting misfire almost killed him. Casey had carried him out to the rendezvous site and it had been touch and go for a while but he was healthy again and the scarring wasn't all that bad.

"It must have been terrible, Chuck. I'm so glad you weren't killed. I mean, hell, I'd never have met you. I'm so glad we 'bumped into each other' before class that day. Bloody noses seem to bring us closer together, Chuck."

* * *

"Chuck, you're elbow's on my hair, honey."

"Jenny, I can't breath when you clamp your thighs…"

"Oh, my Gawd, Chuuuuuuck…"

* * *

She lay on him, her head tucked under his chin, running the inside of her thigh up his and threading her fingers through his chest hair.

"Baby, I never knew it could be so sweet…"

"You're incredible, Jenny. And I never knew people could bend like that."

"You're not disappointed are you, Chuck? I'm sure as hell not but was it OK for you?"

"Not just OK, Jenn, try faaaannnnntastic!"

She woke up at 8am in a strange bed and was confused for a few seconds until she remembered. She snuggled down into the covers enjoying the memories of the previous night. Yeah, they'd been nervous and awkward at first but not for long. She'd lost all control at one point. She'd never really had an orgasm before. She wasn't sure if she should tell him. She didn't want him to think she was…defective.

He made her laugh and sigh and almost cry as they made love. They whispered suggestions, lewd impossibilities and he'd made her giggle and laugh outright but mostly he made her feel incredibly loved and happy.

Jenny threw back the covers and used the bathroom and brushed her teeth and then pulled on a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt and went in search of her boyfriend. He loved her and she needed another booster shot of being loved. God, she was such a drama queen.

She found him in the kitchen making breakfast. He'd gone out and picked up some things for their refrigerator since, as he put it, 'the damned thing's never been used for anything but steaks and salad stuff'.

Chuck was standing at the stove making eggs and bacon. He'd set the table after dusting off the few dishes he owned. He didn't cook. His selection of meals came from the second drawer under the microwave where he kept the take out menus for all the local restaurants.

"Mmm, something smells good, baby. You smell good. You smell like me, Chuck, and I like it that way. All the other women in your life will know you're taken when they catch my scent on you." She'd wrapped her arms around him and was rubbing her face against his back, incredibly happy for the first time in ages.

"Sit and I'll bring you your breakfast, m'lady. No toast. Don't own a toaster. We'll have to make a list of stuff we'll need to make this place more livable."

"But I like it the way it is. Simple and functional. Besides, Chuck, I have a confession to make. A terrible failing. Something you should have known before last night, maybe a deal-breaker."

"What? You're married? An illegal alien? On the lam from the mob? You're really a transgender post-op? What?"

"Don't be so flip, Chuck, please? I'm serious about this. I should have told you before."

He turned around and looked at her, a look of dread on his face.

"What is it you didn't tell me, Jennifer?" His tone was suddenly cold and she shivered as she took in his body language and tone of voice. She thought she'd seen 'all the Chucks' but this was a new one and he was scary.

"I – I – I can't cook, not at all. I feel bad I didn't tell you but we got busy doing other things and I kinda forgot."

He started to laugh and she stepped back, crossing her arms, not at all pleased with his response.

"Hey, go look at the 2nd drawer below the microwave. All your problems are solved."

She did as he said, still border-line pissed at his laughter and jerked open the drawer.

"I don't cook either – except for basic breakfast and the grill. So as long as one of us can dial a phone…" The drawer was filled with take out orders for local restaurants.

"I knew I loved you for _some_ unknown reason, Chuck. Now feed me and then let's plan on doing some more practicing."

She wondered how she'd keep a straight face at Wednesday night's Happy Hour?

* * *

APR


	5. Chapter 5

Nik's Notes: Ah, I see the love was like ice in the Bayou...fleeting. Maybe a longer wait between chapters is more appropriate. We'll see. Bored and don't feel like braving the crowds at the mall. Nicole.

* * *

Tryst Lounge  
Wednesday Night Happy Hour

Jenny had missed the last two Happy Hour sessions because of scheduling. She wanted to share all her news with the others, especially that skank C-Cups who still was grumbling that Chuck was gay.

Alexandra was missing from the group. C-Cups informed the group that she'd been called back to FT Meade for reassignment back into an action team. Jenny wasn't familiar with the term and asked her what it meant.

"An action team is a small unit working covertly either domestically or internationally that collects intelligence that cannot be collected using satellites or standard ELINT means. Jenny, it means they go out and get dirty. High rate of attrition. They go places they shouldn't to get stuff from people who don't want to share. They do other stuff but it's mostly rumor."

"Ha! They wouldn't be covert if everyone knew about them! Idiot!" Judith didn't like C-Cups very much and it showed.

That started a discussion about tales they'd heard about action teams. Everyone but Jenny had a favorite tale, rumor or outlandish lie.

"I heard that a 2-man team snuck into Iran and blew up some missiles. Team got out with no casualties but were taken off-line for months."

"That one's true. It's a part-time team. Team Cardinal. Both members have other roles to play. If they're a part-time action team, shit, what must their _real jobs be_?"

Jenny checked her watch and realized she'd be late if she didn't leave right that second. "Sorry, have to fly. We're driving up to Tahoe for the holidays. Merry Xmas everyone!"

C-Cups watched Jennifer disappear through the crowd. "So, anyone giving odds on how long she'll stay around after she gets her first taste of the big show? Now that we all know he's not queer, we'll be able to slide right in after she disappears like the others."

"I think she's in love and has every intention of kissing the job goodbye and settling down with the Hunk and having babies. It's always the quiet ones who end up with the ring, house and picket fence. And she's so _plain _looking."

* * *

Outside Lake Tahoe City, NV  
Xmas Eve

"My God, Chuck, this place is amazing! I expected something a lot plainer and more rustic but this place is like…"

He laughed at her enthusiasm and was proud and pleased with her reaction. It had been a lot more rustic when he'd bought it and spent vacations up here remodeling and upgrading the fixtures. It was over 50 years old and back when he'd bought it, it still had outdoor "plumbing" if you could call the small shanty behind the A-frame 'plumbing'. He'd had it plumbed up to code and the shanty was just a source of amusement for him now. It was no longer functional.

"Yeah, everything here but the toilet. It's a short walk to the 'facilities', Jenn, but it isn't too cold. Just check to make sure you don't disturb any of the local wildlife when you go out at night. There's an extra flashlight in there if yours goes out or anything."

He glanced at the look of absolute horror on her face and started to laugh. He couldn't help it.

"Oh, Jenny, my love, the look on your face! There's a full bath upstairs. I'm sorry I was just having some fun at your expense!"

"Not funny, Charles. Not funny at all. Santa's going to bring you coal for your Xmas present. A big chunk of coal. I hope the fireplace is fully functional, honey, because that's the only source of heat you'll be getting tonight!" She flounced back out to the car to bring in another suitcase.

She wasn't really mad and she had absolutely no intention whatsoever of sleeping alone. She _had_ been horrified at the thought of a long dark walk out to an outhouse to take care of business. Well, at least he hadn't suggested a chamber pot or anything else. She grabbed the suitcase and her hanging bag and walked carefully up the stairs to the chalet. Someone would be shoveling snow soon…hmmm, wonder who?

* * *

Chuck had quickly shoveled the steps and porch of all the snow and so her walk down to the SUV that evening was clear since she was wearing heels and an evening dress. She had no desire to fall on her ass. Both were wearing coats since the temperature was fast approaching the lower 20s.

Chuck had insisted that they go to the casino for dinner, dancing and a little gambling. She'd wanted to stay at the chalet, sitting in front of the fire and enjoying a little heavy making out but he'd been adamant.

"Jenny, this is our first Xmas eve together and I want to make it special for us. Something for each of us to remember. Our first Xmas together."

She caved. He'd used the brown-eyed-lost-puppy-in-the-snowstorm look and her resolve melted. There'd be other nights. Tonight would be his night.

The casino was crowded with revelers but they had reservations and had arrived early. She'd worn her 'little black dress' and he'd worn a tux without a tie and she thought they made a fabulous couple. A casino photographer asked if they wanted their picture taken together and Jenny immediately said 'no, thanks' remembering her training but Chuck overruled her – well, he used a modified 'puppy' look and she caved.

The photographer brought them their framed picture and Jenny gasped and laughed. They looked so happy and the photographer had caught just the right look on Chuck's face. She'd keep this one around forever even if things didn't work out between them. She'd always have her Xmas Eve with Chuck.

* * *

Chuck glanced at his watch and excused himself saying he needed the men's room but actually he walked out into the parking lot and took a call from John Casey.

"Merry Christmas, Chuck. January 3, LAX, 10am. I'll meet you at the Continental counter with tickets. Pack civies for 3 days. You'll be issued anything else you might need. You and Jenny have a great week, Chuck, and you better enjoy it. The next 2 months are going to be…fun…for me!"

Casey hung up without letting Chuck say anything which was fine with him. Chuck called the caretaker of the lodge and was given the green light. OK. Time for Operation Illumination. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. This was going to be so much fun!

* * *

Jenny really wanted to go home and get out of the shoes that were pinching her feet and all her clothes and into something comfortable and just laze around in front of the fire while her boyfriend fooled around with her.

"Jenn, honey, I'm sorry but something's come up and we have to get back to the Lodge. I'll make it up to you. I wanted us to have a very memorable and first Christmas together. Let's go, baby. We can come back another time."

The ride back to the lodge was made in silence. She told herself it was to be expected. She was used to disappointments in her personal life and good at compartmentalizing her emotions about them. She cursed his consulting business and his damned dedication to his clients. She was losing him for 2 months and she'd wanted to spend every waking moment until then in his company and preferably in his bed.

He stopped at the entrance to their lane and handed her his silk scarf. "Put this on as a blindfold, Jenny. Nothing kinky, I promise. I just…please, Jenn, don't ask questions. Just do it."

Intrigued, she did as he asked and settled her mind and emotions and just went with the flow.

Chuck pulled up in front of the lodge and looked it over. Perfect. The small A-Frame looked like Times Square with almost as many strings of lights decorating its perimeter and porch. The lighted Xmas tree was perfectly framed in the large window facing the lake. Perfection for his perfect lady.

"I'm going to walk around and guide you, Jenn. I'll just be a second. Stay put."

He walked around, opened her door and guided her to the spot he'd pre-selected and whispered "Merry Christmas, baby. Just the first of many I hope," and removed the silk scarf from her eyes.

Her reaction was totally not what he'd expected. She started to cry and twisted around in his arms and buried her face in his coat. He didn't know what to do. He hadn't expected this reaction at all. He finally just scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the steps and into the living area. He dropped her on the couch and tried to peel her off him.

"Jenny, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings somehow. I didn't mean for this to upset you so much, baby. I just wanted to do something special for you. I'm sorry. Please quit crying, Jenn. I'll tear it all down and dump the tree out in the front. Let go and I'll take care of it."

"No! It's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me, Chuck. No one ever cared much about me at Christmas time but you – you care about me all the time. This says 'I love you' better than any words. If I ever had any doubts at all about it, they're gone now. This is the best Christmas I've ever had, Chuck Bartowski, and it's all because of you. I don't deserve you but I'll earn your love, baby, every day."

"There's stuff under the tree for you and for us, Jenn. It's after midnight so it's technically Christmas morning. Let's get out of these formal duds and into something more comfortable and open the presents."

Still sniffling, she hugged him and led him upstairs to the loft. She stood at the rail of the balcony and looked down on her perfect Christmas. He'd done all this for her and she'd never felt more at home or loved.

Waiting until he'd dressed and gone down to 'fiddle with the fire', she slipped off her formal and slid into a pair of slinky red silk lounging pajamas that the clerk at VC told her would 'make any man hard enough to drive nails'. She blushed at the lewd comment but giggled when she imagined Chuck pounding nails with his…

Taking out the small wrapped gift for her boyfriend she had a moment of clarity. This is how life is supposed to be. Open and emotional and free, not skulking in the shadows, keeping secrets, being someone she really wasn't. She vowed to change, to be more open and to always tell him the truth, within reason.

* * *

Chuck watched Jenny glide down the circular metal stairway and smiled. He hoped she liked her presents, but most of all he hoped she wouldn't feel uncomfortable about anything and if she did, he hoped she'd tell him. He wanted this to be perfect for his perfect lady. Later, he wanted her to be very naked. He shifted uncomfortably as the bulge in his sleep pants grew and squirmed to seat his 'wedding tackle' more comfortably.

Jenny handed him his present and smiled as he carefully opened the gift. She dug deep into savings to pull enough cash together to buy him… "Oh, Jenny, it's perfect. This is too much, baby. I know what these things cost. I love it but it's too much." It was a Rolex. The diver's watch and he did know how much they cost.

"No! I wanted you to have it. I want you to always wear it and know that I'm there with you wherever you go, baby. Check out the back, Chuck. I had them put a hokey inscription there but it's my sentiment, not something out of a book."

_Always Come Home to Me  
__Jenny  
__Xmas 2006_

Chuck thought about some of the close calls he'd had in the past 2 years and how close he'd come on a couple of occasions to not coming home. It hadn't seemed all that important to him then. He considered himself to be immortal and besides, he really didn't have anything at home to come back to – until now, that is. He had her.

"Jenny, I – I…" He couldn't talk. He choked up. Him, the one who felt uncomfortable around all the emotional drama…he would have cried if he'd been alone.

She hugged him and whispered that she loved him and always wanted him to come home to her. She held on to him knowing that it would take a few seconds for him to reestablish control. He didn't like to display anything like tears.

They opened 'their' gifts that mostly consisted of things they'd agreed they'd need for the condo and almost everything she'd mused about having but felt was too damned expensive. There was one small package remaining and it said simply 'Open me last.'.

"Chuck, what's this?" She carefully opened the small oblong jeweler's box and opened the lid and gasped. Inside was a note reading '_This is the key to my heart'_. She set the note aside and moved the cotton batting and found a small jewel-encrusted antique key on a platinum chain. She held it out to him to put it on her.

"Chuck, you make me so happy with so many small things. The lights, the tree, all these things I wished for but didn't think we could ever afford…and now this. I'll never take it off, baby, never, ever. Thank you for all this, Chuck, but thanks most for loving me."

Later than night she snuggled up close to him, enjoying the afterglow of incredible (for her, at least) sex. He was warm and he was hers. She smiled at the look on his sleeping face. He was smiling and she knew what had put that smile there – she had. She breathed him in and snuggled even closer, slipping a hand into his sleep pants just as he had a hand under her pajama top and was cupping one of her breasts. Even in sleep he found ways to make her happy.

* * *

A/N: Nikki gave me a watch (Not a clunky Rolex, thank God) with the same inscription for Xmas so it's kinda true. I travel a lot and it's nice to have someone to come home to for a change.


	6. Chapter 6

Nik's Notes: OK, thanks for the reviews but I have to tell y'all that I'm not pleased with some of the fluffy comments. That said, this one starts some not-so-fluffy chapters but I guarantee you a delightful and satisfactory ending - unless you really want me to stop posting at chapter 10. If you're into angst, just read chapter 11, it's the only one that wallows in it. The rest of this is a surprise - I know I was surprised when I read it. I must have had a mellowing effect on the old buzzard.

Hit the damned button a lot. Review early and often to get the next chapter - otherwise can y'all even spell Friday?

Nik

* * *

New Year's Eve was the antithesis of Christmas Eve. Everything went wrong. They went to a party at a casino and watched the count down clock ring in the New Year. They shared a hot kiss and then went into the casino to do a little gambling and quickly bored of it since neither were very lucky. Jenny had blown through the money Chuck had given her and watched as he played poker.

It was a drunk who started the fight. Witnesses told the police the truth. The drunk was standing behind his wife who was losing her ass and he started verbally abusing her causing her to bet less conservatively and lose money more rapidly.

He bored with giving her a hard time and eased over until he was shoulder to shoulder with Jenny. Looking down her dress at the tops of her breasts he quietly asked her how much she charged for a blowjob since her 'john' was occupied playing poker. He had his drink-free hand half way up her short black dress and was trying to slip his fingers between her thighs.

He asked her again, quite loudly this time, how much she charged and jammed his fingers up into her crotch and tried to pull down her panties. She whimpered in sudden pain and humiliation, fighting her trained response to rip his testicles off.

Chuck only heard him ask the question the second time and then her cry of pain. He threw down his cards, stood, turned, and saw what he was trying to do to Jenny. He lost his temper and struck the drunk hard on the base of his chin with the heel of his hand, jamming his teeth together and severing the tip of his tongue that he'd been wiggling suggestively at Jenny. He'd been trying for a killing blow to the base of the nose that would have driven the septum into the base of the asshole's brain but he'd misjudged and had to settle for the tongue tip.

Casino security was on the two couples like white on rice. They dragged Chuck off the man he was trying to throttle to death while the dealer was shouting to the pit boss what had happened. Jenny was hanging on to one of Chuck's arms while he was frog-marched off to the security station.

Two hours later, after the dealer and pit boss had corroborated Chuck and Jenny's story, they got an apology, coupons for a free buffet and an escort out to Chuck's SUV. The two local cops ran herd on them and followed them all the way to the turn off and then blew their horn and pulled away.

Jenny had been shocked by his response, a classic killing blow delivered with enough force to be fatal, and with the officer's response once they 'ran his ID'.

"Uh, Mr. Bartowski, everything checks out, Sir. No problems. This guy got what he deserves. We'll talk to him and make sure he doesn't make any trouble in the future for you or the missus. You're free to go with our apologies for spoiling your evening."

Once they got in the SUV Chuck turned towards her and apologized. "I'm sorry if I ruined your evening, Jenn, but I couldn't let him put his hands on you or say such disgusting things. Drunk or not, I would have hurt him worse if they hadn't stopped me. I'm sorry and I feel terrible about ruining…"

"Stop it! Just stop it! You didn't ruin anything except his mouth and he had it coming. I should have walked away or called security but I froze, baby. No one's ever put their hands on me like that and I just froze. I'm the one who caused the problem. All you did was solve it. Even the cops said you were right to clobber that bastard. Let's go home, baby, light the fire and just chill out for a while. OK? Chuck?"

"He hurt you, Jenny. They should have charged him with attempted rape and put him away. The casino shouldn't have let him drink so much free booze. I should have kept a better eye on you. You didn't do anything to deserve any of this except look beautiful and be with me."

She'd never witnessed the 'Bartowski Funk' before and was quiet during the ride back to the lodge. He'd protected her when all her training failed her and if this had been 'real' CIA mission it could have been a fatal mistake. Her contract was up in a little less than 3 years and she knew now that she wasn't cut out for this life. She wanted to be Mrs. Bartowski, not Agent Jennifer Burton.

Alexandra had been right. _Agents_ shouldn't fall in love but_ a woman_ could.

While Jenny wrestled with her future, Chuck was thinking about his. He'd lost his temper and nearly killed a civilian. He'd gone for a kill shot and was grateful he'd missed it. He'd need to talk to Casey about this and ask him what he thought. Sure, he'd killed enemies of his country before, but this had been personal, not business.

He felt her fingers pry his hand from the steering wheel and she placed a kiss on each of his fingertips and then just held his hand and sighed. He glanced over and she had a peaceful look on her face, like some great weight had been moved from her shoulders. Maybe things would be OK and they'd make it through this. Maybe he was making too much out of it.

He'd seen the screen when his ID had been run through the NCIC computer system. The flashing red border that screamed 'government agent – do not detain' had caused the older cop to blink but then change his posture. His own personal 'get out of jail free' card. He almost laughed at that but realized that the inquiry would come to someone's attention and that would start a chain of inquiry ending at either Beckman's desk or Casey's voice on the phone.

While she showered and changed, Chuck built up the fire and made coffee. He sensed her behind him and turned and smiled and almost dropped the cup. She was standing a yard away from him wearing a silk robe that was translucent and her body was outlined by the fire behind her.

"I always forget how beautiful you are until something like this reminds me." He held out his arms and she slowly approached him, a slow smile spreading across her face.

"So you think I'm beautiful, Chuck? Well, since yours is the only opinion I value, I'm glad you feel that way. I'm in need of comfort, baby. I'm cold and need warmed up…really warm. Can you handle it?"

"I'll try. And if I don't get it right the first time, we'll just have to try it again."

"I like the way you think, Mr. Bartowski." Her moods were mercurial and she shifted from seductress to hunter. "That wasn't a request so much as it was an order, a demand, an ultimatum, baby. Don't make momma come over there and get you." She walked over toward him, rolling her hips in an exaggerated manner.

Chuck scooped her up and she screamed in surprise and pleasure.

"Happy New Year, baby. The first of many, I hope." There was that longing tone in her voice that required that he answer her.

"We can be in Las Vegas in 3 hours, Jenny, and married and you won't have to 'hope' for many, I'll guarantee it."

She looked at him, studying him and evaluating all the signals his expression and body gave off. He was deadly serious.

"No. Not Las Vegas. I want a small wedding with a priest, Chuck. No one else needs to be there, just you, me, the priest and God. And I want to wear a white dress, nothing elaborate or expensive, but most of all I want pictures to put on the walls of us saying our vows, of our first kiss as a married couple, and the traditional one of the two of us holding hands with a small bouquet of flowers. It's all I've ever wanted and it's all I need. Nothing fancy. Neither of us has family so it'll be nice and small and intimate and quiet, totally unlike the honeymoon."

"I'll take that and any other embellishments, Jenn. I think that's a lot better idea than mine and you'll need time to pull it all together so the day I get back from this engagement, we're getting married. OK?"

"Yeah. Perfect. I don't suppose the company can send someone else? Like a junior partner or something?"

He laughed and almost dropped her. "Babe, Casey and I _are_ the company. There's no one else. Just the two of us. Works great for us."

They woke up the next morning and packed to return to real life. Jenny made Chuck promise that they'd come back here every year and spend the holidays just like they'd done – excluding the casino episode, and he readily agreed. Every year, like clock work.

* * *

Jenny drove Chuck to the airport on the morning of January 3 and they both had a hard time saying 'goodbye'. She promised herself that she wouldn't cry and make him feel bad but that resolution lasted until he walked back to her with his tickets in hand and then the dam broke and he had a weeping girlfriend.

He noticed Casey walking passed, looking at him with something Chuck thought might be envy but dismissed it. Casey had one emotion in his whole body…disdain.

"Jenny, I'm only going to be gone 8 weeks and then I'll be home and we can plan our wedding. I left some signed checks for you to take care of the bills and I'll add you to the checking and investments accounts as soon as I get home. I never thought I'd have to leave you for such a long time, sweetheart, or I'd have done this earlier. I just didn't think about it. Open any mail and pay the bills. My credit card numbers are on the computer so pay the bills and use the checks for groceries and wedding stuff. I got to go, Jenny. Security is a bitch."

She kissed him hard, putting all the love she felt into it and then she turned and rushed away, leaving him suddenly cold and alone. He should have asked Casey for an extension until they had better order in their lives. He mentally kicked his ass for being so forgetful.

* * *

NSA Training Unit  
FT Meade, MD

_God, I'm so tired. Who knew that running up and down hills carrying a 50 pound rucksack while firing 'for the record' could be so damned hard! Thank God I'm in shape. Some of these flab bags were sucking wind in the first mile. At least I qualified._

Tired or not, he called Jenny as often as he could. Sometimes she'd be sleeping and he felt like a prick waking her but other times she'd be at work and the conversation would be rushed. He didn't mean to bother her at work. What she did was important to a lot of people and he didn't want her to get into any trouble.

He emailed her as often as possible although she said she'd rather talk in person than via email. He knew that neither of them felt comfortable saying what they wanted to say via email. It seemed so impersonal. Her emails were full of her daily grind as well as updates on the progress of the wedding and an ever-growing list of potential honeymoon spots. His girlfriend had a really weird sense of the romantic.

First on her list was the Grand Canyon followed by Crater Lake, Hawaii, Vancouver, BC, Bermuda, and the Canary Islands. He didn't care as long as she was happy.

He sent her a brief response, wishing she was here so he could just whisper it into her hair after making love. He started to close his email program when he saw a new message, something about a 'troll'.

Intrigued, he opened the email and saw that it was from Bryce RatBastard Larkin that started out apologizing and ended up with a challenge. He laughed and realized it was from Zork and so he input the appropriate response and the next thing he knew Casey was pounding on his door demanding to know why he wasn't at 'muster'.

Chuck had a killer headache and his ears were ringing and he kept rubbing his eyes to clear out the goop that seemed to be screwing up his vision. He could taste blood in his mouth but had no idea what had happened.

He opened the door and Casey started screaming at him and stopped and pulled out his cell and dialed a number and said 'medical emergency, transient training barracks, room 204' and hung up. He was actually gentle when he helped Chuck back to his bed and told him to lie down until the paramedics looked him over.

There was a large pool of blood on the floor where Bartowski had fallen. His computer was a smoking pile of melted plastic and twisted metal and it was a wonder it hadn't started a fire in the room.

"Chuck, can you hear me? Did Larkin send you an email? Did it have attachments? Did you open the attachment?"

"Yeah. Zork. A game we played in college. No biggie. Man, my head is coming off. Got any Advil or anything with codeine? Move, John, I got to barf…"

* * *

NSA Medical Center  
FT Meade, MD

Colonel Beckman paced the hall waiting for the doctors to finish their examination and evaluation of the patient, Bartowski. While it couldn't have been sent to a less-suitable individual, it had been sent to him while he was here, at Meade. Now she had to decide whether to terminate him, incarcerate him in WitSec or in a bunker in Moab, or allow him to continue training.

"Major Casey, what is your opinion so far of Bartowski's potential as an NSA agent?"

"He's making excellent progress. He's in shape and maxed the weapons stress exam with the best score in cycles. He's loyal and a patriot. I've been with him on several operations and he's steady and doesn't whine. He's a good candidate for an agent appointment."

"Are you willing to team up with Bartowski permanently? You'll need a partner yourself and I suppose I'll have to find one for him."

"Ma'am, hold off on finding him a partner. He's getting married and I don't think a partnership could survive a marriage. Too many conflicts."

"Well, he'll just have to stay single, dump the girl, and accept his fate."

"Colonel, he won't do it. He'll balk and you've never met a more stubborn individual. If you want what's in his head to work, unfettered, you let him have his personal life. Trust me, he'll do his duty. He's never declined an assignment and he's performed better than most agents. He likes the excitement, General. He's an adrenalin junky."

He told her about his past experiences, Chuck's hobbies and his preference for extreme sports.

"Sometimes I think he's got a death wish but he keeps on bouncing back. Handles stress well but has a temper that has to be seen to be believed. I'll partner with him and another. I suppose that means I go undercover as a married man again." The last sentence was followed by a sigh. He hated being partnered with a woman. Invariably, emotions got in the way. He called them 'girly feelings and moments'.

She slapped a file folder against his chest and turned. Her last words were "Bartowski! God must hate me! Bartowski!"

Casey stifled a laugh until the small colonel got on the elevator and then he laughed and pushed open the door to Bartowski's room. The NSA agent sitting beside the bed was pointing a 9mm at his head and he slowly pulled out his credentials.

"I'm Major Casey. I'm his partner until things shake out. I need some time alone with him. This is way above your pay grade. Wait outside but don't let anyone in, understand?"

He shook Chuck awake and laughed. "Well, Bartowski, you're in a fine mess. The colonel wants to shoot you, send you to prison and then a witness security program. Guess which one she prefers?"

"Right now I'd pay her to shoot me. I still have a killer headache and the asshole docs won't give me anything for it."

"Blame Beckman. She wants you chemical-free while you take a little test. Ready?"

* * *

"Beckman, secure. Well, Major Casey?"

"He's the real deal. Asked him 35 questions and got 28 correct answers. He said the ones we planted 'weren't on file'."

"All right. Accelerate his training. Compress it. Fulcrum is crippling the Combine's efforts at every turn it seems. Have you checked out his 'girlfriend'?" She said the word like it was disgusting.

"Yeah, when he first started dating her. He met her in his class at UCLA. She works for a medical firm that does high-end physical therapy and skilled nursing care for the rich and famous. She's a licensed physical therapist and graduated from the Mayo Clinic. Prior to that she was just the average citizen. Nothing threatening but she's too good for the moron. Nice girl. Likes him. Don't know why. She thinks he's in Rwanda on a hydroelectric project."

Beckman chuckled. "OK, we'll do it your way but the girlfriend goes in the hole if he breathes a word about his job or his special talent. Larkin's dead, by the way. Bartowski should appreciate the irony. Ask him about it. I have things to do, Major. Keep in touch."

* * *

A/N: If you're still reading this, beware. Some not-so-mushy scenes are forthcoming in the next chapters. Be of stout heart though, I promised Nik a happy ending.

APR


	7. Chapter 7

Nik's Notes: Where is the damned love? I chipped a damned nail editing this damned crap!

* * *

Chapter 7

Office of the Deputy Chief of Station  
CIA Substation  
Los Angeles, CA

"You wanted to see me, Agent Decker?" Jenny was nervous. She had reviewed her actions of the past month and couldn't figure out why she was being called to the 'principal's office', at least that's what it felt like.

"Yeah, Jenny, just a sec. I have the file here. OK. We need a courier to run some classified photos and documents to the embassy in Buenos Aires, Argentina. You don't have any assignments pending and I thought this might be a great opportunity for you to stretch your international legs, so to speak. A day down, two days there, and then back to L.A. These are highly sensitive items and we don't trust a few of the embassy staff so it's to be hand-delivered. You want it?"

"Yes! Yes, I want it. I'm bored and I've never been to…hell, I've never been anywhere out of the US. Yes, Agent Decker, thank you!"

"Good. See my secretary and she'll pull your cover passport from the safe and issue your tickets and travel advance. I know it's covered in school, Jenny, but you'll be going incognito with an assumed identity for cover purposes. Learn your legend and keep receipts so the paper pushers in DC don't get their panties in a twist.

"Yes, sir. Does this mean I'm out of WitSec and considered a field agent now? I've worked really hard to be an asset to the Agency."

"Yeah. I'll push the paperwork through and get the Chief to sign off on your formal transfer from Treasury to the CIA. WitSec is losing an excellent agent but I feel that the Operations Division is gaining a winner."

He always liked it when an agent moved into Operations. The Covert side of the organization was where the action was and he honestly believed that Burton, now that she was married, would be a steady domestic operative with the occasional international outing.

"You leave in two days. Pack for a week just to be certain. The names of your contacts and code words are in the file. Good luck, Jenny. Do us proud!"

Jenny was ecstatic as she picked up her travel documents and cover file. Her new passport was in the name of Sara Gamble and her photograph was one taken for such purposes at the Farm in Langley. Wait until she told…shit! Chuck. She couldn't tell him. Not ever. Besides, he was off in the hinterlands having a good time advising and designing power systems. Another week and he'd be home.

Her mind went forward a few months and she wondered how she'd explain these absences to her boyfriend?

_Maybe I can get permission to at least tell him what _part_ of my job entails. It would make absences so much easier to explain. I hate lying to him, even if it's for his own good. 'Chuck, honey, sweetie, baby, lover, dear heart, I'm a CIA agent'. What if he wanted me to quit for my own safety? How could I tell him 'no' and risk losing him?_

* * *

Unknown location  
NSA Training Compound

"OK, Chuck, this is your graduation exercise. Don't screw it up. We're going to play 'Fox and the Hounds' and guess who's the Fox? Your mission is simple: don't get caught. If you get caught, it's over and you and what's in your head go into life-long WitSec or worse – an underground bunker where the system will suck the life out of you as they drain your brain for what's in it."

"Jesus, you can't be serious, Casey! That sounds like a bad science fiction intro… You _are_ kidding me, right?" He knew Casey never joked or kidded around about the job.

"Kid, I like you so I'll tell you the unvarnished truth: Beckman hates you with a purple passion and wants you dead since she doesn't have 100% control over you. She'll settle for the 'brain sucking' scenario. Chuck, you have to beat these guys or it's over. You get a trank pistol, survival knife, canteen, rations for 3 days, a map, compass and winter survival gear. You get choppered into the test area and you have 3 days to complete the course. Successful completion means you don't get caught and you reach the pickup site."

"What are the rules, Casey? Can I attack them, and if so, am I authorized deadly force?" He thought about spending a life without Jenny and he knew he'd kill to get back to her.

"No, Numbnuts, you can't kill these guys but you can disable them. That's why you have the trank gun. If you disable all five, the exercise is over and you win. If you reach the pickup site successfully, you win. Anything else is a loss and you don't want to lose."

"OK, 'disable all' equals a win. 'Reach home' equals a win. I can't kill them. Simple. Anything else?"

"You get dumped out an hour ahead of their arrival in the test area. They will know where you were dropped off and they know the general location of your pickup point. Other than that, they know nothing at all about you. You're just the object of _their _training exercise."

"You don't seem upset about any of this, Casey. I suppose this is life in the real spy world, right?"

"It's unfair but she's the boss. What's in your head is unique and can't be duplicated. Her concerns are for the Greater Good, not one individual. She'll spend assets like loose change to protect this country. But I did swing the odds slightly. You get skis and they aren't experienced Nordic skiers. That's your edge, Chuck. Use it. It's 80 klicks from drop off to pickup. Three days. See you when you get to the other side, _Cardinal._"

Using his operating name was the most affection or acknowledgment Casey would ever allow. 'Good luck' was beyond his repertoire of close-held feelings.

Chuck quickly inventoried his gear, selected skis and poles and then walked out to the waiting Huey E2 and boarded. He chose to sit in the open door and let his legs dangle. It helped put him in the zone.

* * *

The lieutenant leading the Hounds reported to the burly major who led him into a supply room and killed him with a silenced shot to the head. The rest of his team were lying on the floor, dead. Snickering about morons who trusted, the major spoke one word into a cell phone and then disappeared into the base helicopter terminal.

On the other side of the base a heavily armed team of 'Hounds' boarded a Blackhawk and took off. Each was an accomplished skier as well as a competent mercenary soldier. Their mission was simple: capture Charles Bartowski alive and uninjured and call in an extraction. If he was close to reaching the pickup point and they were out of position to make the capture, they were to kill him and his pickup team.

* * *

The Huey flared and Chuck lost sight of the horizon in the blown snow. The pilot lowered the chopper until he felt the skids settle and the crew chief motioned for Chuck to 'get out and away' and helped him put on his rucksack and then handed him his skis and poles.

"Good luck, _Cardinal._ We're heading south to a maintenance depot and a 3-day stand down. We'll be back to pick you up so don't disappoint us. Casey said to tell you to watch your ass and remember Ismalanda, whatever the hell that is."

Chuck waved and nodded. Ismalanda was the small town near where they'd blown up the missile control and refueling systems and where Chuck had been injured. The message was pretty clear: watch your ass.

He heard the pilot increase the engine speed and the snow started to swirl around him so he ran to the edge of the clearing. His plan was to find himself on the map, check out the terrain and landscape and plot his route. A topo map did little good in deep snow.

He was rooting through his pack when he saw another helicopter making a gun run on the Huey. He twisted himself behind a tree and watched as a Blackhawk walked it's minigun rounds across the nose of the chopper and down through the crew compartment.

The crew chief grabbed a weapon and jumped from the chopper just as it twisted on its axis and flipped onto one side causing a catastrophic rotor strike. The chopper exploded in flames and the crew chief was thrown several yards away and lay motionless.

The Blackhawk circled the meadow and fired another burst into the chopper and then took a position south of the hilltop to wait for the flames to die down. Chuck ran out and grabbed the crew chief by his LBE and dragged him into the tree line and then ran back for the M-16 he'd grabbed when he jumped from the stricken chopper.

He rolled the man onto his back but he was already dead from a broken neck. He went quickly through the man's pockets but found nothing he could use. Cursing Beckman for being such a deceitful bitch, he removed the dead man's helmet and put it on, lowering the smoked visor and cutting the glare to manageable levels.

He needed the helmet since his watch cap provided no protection whatsoever and he was planning on doing some real cross country skiing and didn't want to brain himself on an unseen branch.

He put on his skis, hooked the M-16 to his LBE and shifted the rucksack to a comfortable position and then checked his compass one final time and took off in the opposite direction from the pickup site. He figured he'd be better off following the snatch team than leading them. The Rules of Engagement had changed radically as had his goal.

Chuck did all this automatically as he threaded his way down the 30% grade, dodging trees and blow-downs and snags. He didn't want to lose a ski or break a binding.

He froze and leaned against a nice thick tree when he heard the chopper approach the hilltop. He thought about popping off a magazine when it passed overhead but he only had whatever ammunition was in the weapon and he wasn't certain an M-16 could actually shoot down a Blackhawk.

Chuck checked his map, approximated his position and then hunkered down to 'wait' for his pursuers to 'follow' him to the pickup site. At least that was his plan.

He waited an hour and then began making his way up the hillside. He'd taken off his skis when he got just below the crest of the hill and crawled out to the edge of the tree line and looked out over the crash site. The opposition had found the crew chief's body and were putting on skis in preparation for following his trail down the hill.

It was well after 2pm by this time and it would be dark in less than 3 hours. It was now or never. He couldn't just wait here for them to crawl up the hill and find him. He eased out of the tree line, dropped his skis and slammed his boots into the bindings. Chuck checked his compass and started poling his way northwest. He figured if he stayed free until someone noted that they were missing a chopper that they'd send a team to investigate.

* * *

Jenny cleared customs using a diplomatic passport and then went to a bank of payphones and dialed a number she'd been given by her control officer, the Deputy Chief of Station. The number was busy so she looked around for a kiosk and bought a cup of coffee and a fashion magazine and sat down to wait a few minutes before trying the number again.

She was on her third cup of coffee and fifth attempt to reach her contact when the phone was finally answered. They exchanged pass phrases and she was told to wait out beside the taxi stand for pickup.

A large SUV with heavily tinted windows pulled up and a man in the passenger seat lowered the window and asked if she was Sara Gamble. She nodded and he got out and held the door for her and motioned for her to take his seat. He walked directly into the terminal and disappeared in the crowd.

The SUV started up again and pulled out into traffic. The driver glanced over at her and smiled. "I'm Daniel Shaw, Agent Gamble. You have some computer discs and photographs for me. We'll get you registered at the hotel and make the exchange. I have some reports that are 'Eyes Only' for the Director so you will be flying out tomorrow morning for DC. I know it's a fast turn-around but I'll make it up to you and buy you dinner."

Dinner was superb and Daniel Shaw made a clumsy pass at her in the elevator and she found she was both flattered and excited but quickly brought her emotions back under control. She had Chuck and this guy was a real agent but Chuck was a real man, not some cardboard cut out. He took her rejection in stride and dropped her off at her room.

The Director had computer files that had to be hand-delivered by secure courier to the intelligence section of NATO in Brussels. They needed a package delivered to the US Embassy in Lisbon who needed…

When she finally got back to L.A., the Deputy Chief of Station sent her and C-Cups out to the rehab compound in the Canyon. They were supposed to help debrief a deep cover plant within Fulcrum as well as provide basic rehab. He'd been in a coma-like state since being retrieved and had just begun to respond normally. He required basic physical therapy to get him back on his feet. Her paperwork had not yet cleared the bureaucratic logjam so she did as she was told.

* * *

Unknown location  
Day Two  
3pm

He was cold and sore and wished he'd never heard of the NSA, Dr. Goddamned Fleming or the RatBastard. All he wanted was to go home just like it said on his watch. _I want to curl up around her and not move for a week or so. OK, at least a full day. _

So far he'd eliminated two of the opposition. As near he could 'guesstimate', there were 6 in the original team of 'Hounds'.

He took out the first one just before dark on the first day of the hunt. He'd taken up a position on a steep rise on the old fire road he was following and popped the first guy over the crest of the previous hill. The sights on the M-16 weren't set to his personal numbers but he hadn't had time to fool with them. It took two rounds of his precious 18 in his only magazine to take him down. Chuck couldn't claim a kill for sure.

_Where the hell are Casey and the Cavalry? Surely someone noticed that they'd lost a Huey? It's not like it was a nickel or a pencil, easily overlooked. It was a Goddamned helicopter!_

* * *

"Casey, secure."

"Beckman, secure. I've read your flash transmission. The 'Hounds' all dead and no word from the Huey crew? How in the world did they lose track of a helicopter?"

"Ma'am, the Huey was going in for depot maintenance and the crew had passes. When security found the bodies someone verified their mission and contacted me. Bottom line: Bartowski's running from _Fulcrum_ Hounds. All the poor bastard's got is a trank gun and I tightened up the Rules of Engagement so he won't go on the offensive. I'm on my way to the flight line now to catch a chopper out to the drop site for a recon. I'll report back when I have something concrete."

* * *

Chuck eliminated the second Hound purely by accident but he'd take it anyway. He'd pulled off the track about 50 yards and covered his tracks as well as he could with a pine bough as a broom. It had snowed just enough to make it impossible to see where he'd left the track but not enough to hide the fact that he had.

He pulled out the winter camouflaged poncho liner and used his poles to form a crude teepee of sorts against a large tree trunk. It would keep the new snow off him and protect him from the wind as well as hide him from casual view. The human eyed keyed on movement and if he didn't move, he might not be seen. This was especially true at dusk that lasted about 30 minutes at these altitudes.

The Hound had tripped over him in the dark. Literally. Chuck had been dozing and alternating between shivering and a light sleep so when the man tripped over him, he was wide awake and took him out with his knife.

He didn't know how but somehow they were tracking him. This was no coincidence. Either he had a bug on him or his gear or they were using infrared or thermal sensors to track him. Whatever the enemy agent had been using was lost in the scuffle.

He stripped the body of anything useful, putting on the dead man's snow smock and trousers and belting on the dead man's 9mm and putting 3 additional magazines in his field jacket pocket. He policed up his personal gear, donned his equipment and skis and skied out to the track. It was a little before 6am and the sky was dark with heavy snow clouds. He checked his compass and set off cross country to the pickup point abandoning the fire road because it was too open.

* * *

"Beckman, secure. Report, Major Casey."

"They nailed the chopper while it was either just landing or taking off again. Catastrophic rotor strike and the bird blew. We found the body of a crewman about 20 yards from the wreck, dead from a broken neck. No sign of Bartowski. Nothing else to report, ma'am. GPS is trying to get a lock on anything in the area but it's touch and go with that terrain. I'll update when I have anything concrete. The weather's turned nasty with high winds so we returned to base."

"Put a team in the area. Split it between the pickup site and the crash site. Follow his route and see if you can surprise the Hounds from behind. Maybe we'll get lucky. I've ordered a satellite to be repositioned in geosychronous orbit to give us real-time thermal and photographic visuals. I'll have a feed sent to your laptop. Find him, John."

"Ma'am, we'll have to delay inserting a team. Weather's closed out any flying. Helluva storm."

"Understood, but the second the weather breaks, insert the team, Major. Find him, dead or alive, and bring him in. Take prisoners if you can. We need to know how they found out about his…burden."

* * *

Canyon Rehab Center  
Los Angeles, CA

Agent Larkin, you have to cooperate. The muscles in your legs have been inactive and whatever position you were in stressed the ligaments and joints. You need to exercise and allow us to work on range of motion or you'll be an old man at 30."

C-Cups aka 'Wendy' grabbed his shoulders and sat him up in his bed. She knew that this hurt like a bitch but it needed to be done.

"Wendy, just leave me alone, will ya? It hurts too damned much. I can't walk and my knees feel like someone dropped a load of gravel in the joint. Have pity, woman!"

"No pity for you, Agent. Our orders are to get you up and on your feet while making sure no one caps your ass. Now, Jenny and I will be right here on either side so you won't fall. That's why we belted you up. Quit whining, Larkin, and get your ass with the program! Jenny, use whatever spell you used on the Hunk and lure him to his feet."

"Who's the Hunk? You into body builders, Jenny?" He looked at her with all his boyish charm turned on full. Maybe he wouldn't be alone at night for long.

"My boyfriend. All the other PTs struck out with him. I guess I was just lucky." She didn't like bringing Chuck into any job-related conversation. He was clean and she didn't want to sully 'Chuck & Jenny' with Agency filth.

One of Larkin's hands strayed down and cupped her bottom and gave it a little squeeze. Jenny reached back and twisted his hand with a thumb lock and glared at him.

"The last asshole who touched me like that is still eating with a straw! Keep your paws to yourself."

"Oh, so you _can_ get physical outside of therapy?" He made it sound like a lewd proposal.

"No, my _fiancé _knocked him on his ass and he bit the end of his tongue off and had a busted jaw. He is very protective and I see no reason to have your face rearranged since you already have such a weak physique. You could use a few more pounds. See if C-Cups can find some extra deserts for you."

Later that night she heard Wendy shriek with laughter and wondered what was going on and walked down to the patient's room and peered through the window. C-Cups was giving Agent Larkin his desert and she bounced up and down on him while he fondled her rather copious proof that she was a mammal.

'_C-Cups my ass. Those are D's pushing whatever comes next. Poor girl will be tripping over them when she'd 50 or so. Well, it appears Larkin's on the road to recovery…assuming he doesn't catch some insidious STD from her. Note to self: protect my coworkers. Requisition condoms – and penicillin.'_

She laughed and went back to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. At least she wouldn't have to listen to C-Cups' constant questions about how Chuck was 'in the clutches'. It wasn't that she didn't want to brag on him but she had much too much respect for him to do that, even to further dispel the constant rumors that he was gay.

Or maybe not. No sense encouraging the competition. He loved her, she didn't know why, but he did and she'd kill anyone who tried to take him from her.


	8. Chapter 8

Nik's Notes: I froze my butt off editing this chapter. It's like freezing here all the damn time and it snows all the damn time. Lake effect is what it's called. Hell is what I call it. I better feel the love or I'll start editing with a fine tooth comb and take months to post. He's due back on 18th. It's warm where he is. Wish he was here and I was there.

Nikki B

* * *

He was cold and tired. The wind was from the Northeast and he had to ski right into the teeth of the storm. Even wearing a balaclava and the chief's helmet, the wind still managed to blow snow into tiny nooks and crannies where it melted and ran down his neck and robbed him of critical body heat.

He checked Jenny's watch and saw he'd been driving on through the trees, skirting brush piles and other obstacles for almost 4 hours without a break. He was on autopilot, trying to think warm thoughts of warm places. His mind wandered and he found himself under the heavy comforter forehead to forehead with Jenny while a storm blew itself out in the Sierras Christmas night. They'd talked about everything and nothing and it was one of his best memories of Christmas. One of the warmest, too.

* * *

Casey's team boarded the Blackhawk and took off for the pickup site. The winds were technically too strong for military flight but the rules were bent when lives were at stake. The 6-man strike team was raring to go and kick some Fulcrum ass and pull the trainee's chestnuts out of the fire.

It took 20 minutes longer than anticipated due to strong headwinds. They planned to drop a short team at the pickup site and then drop another at the crash site and follow Bartowski's intended path and maybe catch some Fulcrum Hounds in the rear. The short team would advance and hopefully pickup the trainee and secure the site for pickup.

It was the afternoon of the 3rd and final day and he was in a near panic. He had plotted his position as best he could and figured he had another six klicks to go but he was out of steam. He stepped out of the ski bindings and waded through the drifts to the side of the clearing and sat to catch his breath and plan his final sprint. From the topo map, he was facing a 2,000 foot climb up a steep grade to the clearing or meadow that marked the pickup site.

He ate a cardboard 'power bar' from his emergency rations and washed it down with cherry-flavored snow melt. He knew he hadn't been drinking enough and his legs were trembling and cramping, a sure sign he'd ignored the basic rule of arctic skiing: stay hydrated.

He heard and then saw the outline of the Blackhawk against the snowy peaks and knew he'd lost. The 'Bad Guys' used the Blackhawk. His team would use Hueys. He checked the time and thought about the inscription on the back of the watch and put on his skis and started off at a slow but steady pace. He wasn't a quitter.

* * *

Jenny Burton was terrified and almost in tears. The contact she was to meet and receive a flash drive from was dead, killed by a sniper just after passing her the drive in a bouquet of spring flowers. The drive contained schedules for arms shipments to Mexican narco-terrorists. She could feel pieces of bone and brain stuck to her skin. She had a pistol, her passport, tickets on a flight out of Cancun in two hours and at least 3 men on foot chasing her.

Out of breath, she hailed a cab and jumped in, telling the driver to take her to the airport. She held the bouquet in a death grip and slid down in the seat in case one of the men saw her and spread the alarm.

The drive to the airport was nerve-wracking and she kept craning her neck to see if the black SUV was following them but so far she seemed to have gotten away. She took out a Kleenex from her purse a and a small mirror and tried to clean off the pieces of Sanchez stuck to her face. She wanted to vomit but composed herself and ran through the training she'd received for just such occurrences.

She went to the ladies room, pulled off the blonde wig and threw it in the trash. She combed out her dark brown hair after washing her face. She unbuttoned her blouse and checked on his key, her constant. Jenny almost puked right then and there. A large piece of brain matter was splattered on the key. She took it off and washed it off and then put it back on. She looked at herself in the mirror and shuddered. How many times had she lucked out in just the last month?

Jenny Burton, using the alias of Sara Gamble, boarded a MexiCaliAir flight to San Diego with connections through to L.A. She was going home.

* * *

Casey sat in the Blackhawk and stared intently at the laptop's screen. The real time satellite feed clearly showed two heat sources in pursuit of another that was ahead of his pursuers by about ½ klick ahead and only two klicks from the pickup point. Casey ordered the pilot to change course. He wanted the door gunners to take out the remaining Hounds and then they'd land and pick up his partner.

Chuck could feel the blood pooling in his boot but he knew that stopping to examine the wound was an invitation to get another, possibly fatal one. He had stopped in a clump of trees to adjust his bindings and his pursuers had crested a rise and taken a shot, probably hoping to disable him. It knocked him on his ass and his entire thigh felt like someone had hit it with a huge sledgehammer. Chuck fumbled with the M-16 and fired the remaining rounds off at full auto. One of his pursuers threw up his arms and tumbled down the slope while the other two flattened themselves out behind cover. He struggled to get up and get moving. His leg still worked, he still had his captured pistols and he still had his goal.

He heard the _whap-whap-whap_ of the rotor blades and knew the chopper had spotted him and was headed his way. That unique _whap _sound was made when the blades 'dug into' the air and you could hear it only when it was headed directly towards you.

He took mental inventory. Three 9mm pistols, 6 magazines and one trank pistol and a wicked survival knife. If worse came to worse, he could always try and trank the chopper.

Chuck started to laugh as he imagined a tranked chopper careening all over the sky as the pilot struggled to control the anaesthetized beast and the passengers and crew were tossed out into the air. It was like a cartoon in his mind. He was still laughing when he heard the chopper's door guns open up. He dove off his skis and rolled off behind a really thick tree and peered around the corner.

* * *

"Land this chopper as close to him as you can get. I'll get off first. He knows me and hopefully he won't blast away at me. You men stay on board until I give the signal then form a protective perimeter until we can assess his situation."

The chopper flared out and the deep snow spun about in random patterns obscuring the actions of those aboard. Chuck wished he hadn't blown through the rest of the magazine on the M-16 but he'd been scared and he _did_ hit one of the Hounds. He drew his 9mm and took aim at where he figured the first figure would appear out of the snowstorm. The range was almost 30 meters but he'd hit smaller targets than a man consistently at 50 meters with a handgun.

Casey hunkered down and duck-walked out towards the front of the chopper, not wanting his head cut off by a rotor. He felt himself clear the rotor wash and stood up and saw a flash from the near tree line and was knocked over backwards. The remainder of the team deployed out of the bird after the pilot told them what had happened. Two ran forward and dragged Casey back onto the bird by his LBE and then the team used fire and maneuver to assault the Hound's position.

It was all over for Bartowski in less than 30 seconds.

* * *

Jenny spent the day at the LA Substation being debriefed by the Chief of Station himself. First he congratulated her on completing her mission and then he asked questions beginning with her arrival in Cancun and her departure the same day. He wanted to know what she saw, if she could identify any of the men who'd chased her, and finally he wanted to know if she wanted time off. She'd obviously been rattled and it was never the Agency's intention to send a green agent into a live-fire situation without a partner or backup.

"No, not right now. I just need to do some self-assessment and identify anything I might have done wrong. I think the contact was under observation the entire time since the shot came as he was handing me the bouquet and before we'd even exchanged signs and counters. He started to say something when his head…when his head just exploded all over the place! From the tops of his eyebrows up was just…it…his head was fucking gone!"

"OK, I think we have enough. Good mission. You did exactly the right things and exactly as you'd been trained. You'll see a commendation in your file, Agent Burton. That'll go a long way towards hurrying your international posting."

She just nodded. She didn't want an international posting. She wanted out when her contract expired. She didn't want to become a Miller or Forrest. She wanted to become a Bartowski.

"Go home, Jenny, and take a few days off and spend time with your boyfriend. Just…remember to keep what you do out of any conversations."

"Of course. When we talk about work I talk about physical therapy, the patients and stuff. Nothing more. I don't want him involved in this business. He's out of the country on some consulting job in Africa, Rwanda I think. He due back this week."

Their condo was quiet and empty and even turning on the television and the radio did little to dispel her loneliness. She needed Chuck. She needed to see him or at least talk to him. Without thinking about the time difference or the possibility of bothering him on the job, she dialed his number and waited.

* * *

USAF Hospital  
Colorado Springs, CO

Casey walked down the corridor, nodded to the two Air Police officers who were providing security for his partner, and entered the room. His chest still hurt from the impact of the 9mm round that had hit exactly dead center in his chest and vest. Chuck Bartowski was still sleeping off the effects of the surgery to remove a .223 caliber bullet from his lower thigh. He surveyed the room, taking in the IV stand with its blood bag and other bags hanging and draining into Bartowski's arm.

Beckman had been impressed enough by his performance to award him his shield and upgrade his status to full agent, skipping the probationary period entirely. They would work out of a secure facility near UCLA but Chuck was going to have to end his teaching gig.

Casey looked over Chuck's personal gear and checked out the watch. He whistled when he thought about the price of one of these babies but smiled broadly when he read the inscription on the back. He was glad Chuck had Jenny. She grounded him and took the edge of his daredevil adventures outside of Team Cardinal.

Chuck's cell phone started to revolve in circles as the vibration announced an incoming call. He laughed as he wondered about coincidence. He had just finished working on their cover story and she called offering him the perfect opportunity to lay it all out.

"This is John Casey. Who's calling please?"

"Hi, John, it's Jenny. Is Chuck available?"

"Ah, Jenny, Chuck's…aw, crap, Jenny, there's no easy way to tell you so I'm just going to blurt it all out. First, he's fine. They got the bullet out and he's been filled back up with blood but he's out cold right now. I suppose you saw the news reports about the rebels in Rwanda taking over the province? Well, that's where our hydro project was and Chuck got snatched and held for ransom. Government troops freed him and the other hostages but several had been shot while trying to escape earlier. Chuck was one of them. If he'd just waited a day…"

"Where is he? I'm coming over there. I'll max out my AMEX but I'll be there as soon as I can. Just tell me where to be, John, and I'll get there as soon as possible."

"Jenny, I'm not really sure where we are except that it's safe and he's being well looked after. He'll be home before you can get here anyway. The government's not allowing foreigners to leave the capital city and we're a long way from the capital of Rwanda, Jenny, a long way." And less than 500 miles from L.A.

"Ask him to call me when he feels better. When do you think he'll be able to travel?"

"He'll be home in a week, Jenny. Just don't hound him for what he did. He got a lot of people out who would have been dead if he hadn't. Just…just be glad they didn't stand him up against a wall like they do their countrymen."

"Have him call me, John. I'll meet him at LAX. Tell him… tell him I love him and miss him and I'll be waiting for his call."

"Yeah. I'll tell him. Gotta go, Jenny. It's the wee hours of the morning and the nurse is shooting me daggers and around here that might just be true if I don't get off the damned phone. Bye."

Casey settled in to wait for his partner to regain consciousness. He had a lot to tell him and then he had to drill him in his legend. And then he had questions, a lot of questions. Did the intersect help him or get in the way? How many Hounds were there and how did they arrive?

He had a hundred more from an operational standpoint but he wanted to know why all the fingerprints on the bodies they'd recovered had been burned off with acid and why every last one of them had dentures and what the strange symbol tattooed on the underside of their upper arms signified.

The Crays at Langley and Meade were being tasked to discover the meaning of the symbol. The best forensic experts in the world were working the bodies and the best cryptographers were trying to decode the messages found in the backpack of the leader of the Hounds. Casey hoped the thing in Chuck's mind might be able to help.

Casey examined the photograph of the symbol. He was no expert. To him it just looked like a circle or a ring.

* * *

Jenny Burton scanned the internet for news of the rebellion in Rwanda and found articles referring to the kidnapping of engineers working on a dam project and how several had been injured leading an escape from their makeshift prison and had been recaptured and executed.

The remainder had been freed by government forces the following evening but with a large loss of life among the hostages as the rebels tried to rob the government of their prize and began shooting them.

She considered options, pulled her planner and reviewed several items, made a few phone calls and finalized arrangements. She was getting married as soon as he got off the plane if she had to meet him at Customs with a priest and a wedding photographer and videographer.

The honeymoon! How strong would he be? Where had he been wounded? She'd ask Chuck in a roundabout fashion when they finally talked. She looked at the clock, closed out her planner and took a shower. She had a list of things to do. The cleaning lady had already been there for the week but she called her and asked her if she could schedule them for a quick cleaning once she knew when he was coming home. Everything had to be perfect.

She showered, set her alarm for 9am Rwanda time and slept. She'd call Chuck and get the truth out of him using the interrogation skills she'd learned at the Farm.

She'd slept, if you could call tossing and turning, rehashing her conversation with Casey (_When am I going to meet this enigmatic partner?_) and worrying that he hadn't been totally honest with her.

She finally gave up and called him. 8:30 was close to 9am and that was good enough for her. She wondered about the weather in Rwanda. Was he warm enough? How long had he been a prisoner? Did they feed him?

Chuck was awake, fighting the effects of the sedative they'd given him after Casey had run another batch of photos past him (and the intersect). He'd only recognized one of the Hounds. He'd been a CIA washout and had bounced around Eastern Europe and Africa as a mercenary soldier for hire. The rest were just unknowns.

His phone buzzed and he remembered his legend and grabbed it before it vibrated itself to the floor.

"He – hello?" He coughed and a spasm went through his thigh and he flinched.

"Chuck! It's Jenny. How are you? Are you OK? Did I wake you? Where are you? Are you in pain? Do they have you on morphine or Demerol or any other good stuff? When are you coming home? Can I fly over there and be with you on the return flight? Chuck? Chuck, please answer me, baby, I've been a nervous wreck since Casey answered your phone earlier."

Chuck laughed because there was no way he could have gotten a word in edgewise. And he laughed because she called and she cared. God, how he missed her.

"What's so damned funny, Chuck?"

"All those questions, baby, and I don't think you took a breath. I'm fine. I was awake. I got some drugs so I might not make sense. As for coming home, I just don't know. Things are a little confusing here, wherever 'here' is. There's absolutely no way I want you coming here. It's a pigsty and I have no idea what the political situation is. I'm just waiting for the green light so that Casey and I can come home. I miss you, babe. I - I was so scared I wouldn't ever see you again."

He couldn't help it. It was the drugs. He started to cry and he could hear Jenny on the other end crying, too. Some NSA agent he was. Couldn't even handle a little nick in the thigh without falling all to pieces. She probably thought he was a coward and a drama queen but he was all done in emotionally. He needed some time to put everything into perspective and he needed her with him to do it.

She was fine all through his response until she heard his voice crack when he said he missed her and that he'd been so scared he'd never see her again. It was exactly how she'd felt when she was running away in Cancun. All the mission stress and her fears for her lover overwhelmed her and she started bawling like a baby. Some CIA agent she was. He probably thought she was some kind of drama queen.

"Chuck, when you finally get home, baby, we're going away. I don't care about my job – I'll get time off or I'll quit. We need the time together to get back to where we were before this terrible thing happened. I need you, lover, to hold on until you get back here. Then we'll both fall apart and help each other back together again. It's what lovers do, Chuck. And I love you more than ever."

They talked through their tears and fears for a few more minutes until the nurse came in and told Chuck to 'get off the damned phone'. Jenny heard the nurse's comment and laughed, told him to be good and that she loved him and then hung up.

_'How am I going to manage the job and a husband? How can I tell him that his wife is a spy?' _thought Jenny.

Chuck looked down at his watch and noted the time. _'If we get married, how will the damned job affect our lives? How can I tell her that her husband is a spy?'_

* * *

APR


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: This is angsty but I shoved it all into one chapter. Gut through it. The real angst is in the next chapter - the dreaded #10.

APR  
Bayou Baptiste

Nik's Notes: Thanks to all the loyal readers who took the brief time to log in and review and to all you who selected this as a favorite or set an alert. BUT THE REST OF YOU... take, take, take, w/o any sign of appreciation. Well, enjoy the drought! I wish this chapter was a cliff-hanger.

* * *

Jennifer Burton stood in front of the full length mirror and shuddered. She'd let herself get out of shape. One of the things that haunted her was how out of breath she'd been in Cancun running out of the park in search of a cab and escape.

_That stops now. No more 'I miss him – I need comfort food'. And my profile! No wonder that bitch C-Cups asked if I was pregnant! I'll spend all my free time in the gym. I need to get back to working on the bag anyway._

She hated those hollow cheeked Victoria Secrets models with their long legs and tiny waists and their ability to slip into anything and make it look good. Somewhere in her lineage there lurked a few Slavs who'd contributed to her somewhat rounded face and slightly bulbous nose. OK, so it wasn't huge but it wasn't a Katie Couric nose either. Nothing about her was 'perky'.

_Chuck talks about my 'inner beauty' but I sure as hell don't see it! How did he fall in love with me so quickly? Nothing like that ever happened before. The asshole at the Mayo was just collecting scalps for his lodge pole and I believed him and even gave him my cherry. God, was I _that_ desperate?_

She only had to look at the framed photograph taken at the casino in Tahoe to know the answer. He loved her. You could see it in his face. She would not risk losing what she had to a fat ass and a pseudo baby bump.

She threw her exercise clothes in her bag and headed for the CIA gym.

She wanted to look perfect for him. Nothing less was acceptable.

* * *

CIA Training Gym  
CIA Substation  
Los Angeles, CA

Sarah found a female personal trainer and explained her 'issues'.

"Go into the locker room and strip down to Mother Nature and I'll be with you in a minute."

The trainer gave her assessment within 10 minutes.

"You have a fine skeletal system, not heavy in bone mass but you definitely need to work on the buttocks and your abdomen. Wear a sleep bra at night to keep gravity at bay as long as possible. Now, here's a diet and an exercise schedule. I want you to keep on working the bag and also spar with the other girls."

"Fine. How long will it take…"

"Stop right there! This is a long-term deal. You didn't get so out of shape overnight and you're not going to recapture what you had overnight. Live with it. You have your diet and schedule. You should lose the weight in 10 days or so but the toning is an on-going process. No more Ben & Jerry nights!"

The days passed quite quickly and Jenny was pleased with her weight loss. _I've literally run my ass off!_

She laughed and hoped Chuck appreciated her efforts. _He never complained, not one time. He just loved me as I was._

* * *

USAF Hospital  
Colorado Springs, CO

"Well, Chuck, you ready to blow this Popsicle stand? I imagine someone's mighty impatient to see you. Just remember the cover story and take it easy on that leg. The Colonel's laid on a plane for us. She wants to make sure you don't disappear on her."

"Yeah. Like she cares about me. She's only interested in what's in my head. I run the dailies for her and without feedback I don't know how good I'm doing. Think you could ask her for a little feedback on results? I think I can focus on more important stuff if I can weed through the crap."

"Chuck, the Dailey Briefing you get is the step below what the President gets every day. It's critical information."

"Pity the President then. 'Wheat production off 20% in the Ukraine. Truck production below estimates in new Zil plant. Spanish premier visits Italy for trade talks'. That's just the really meaty stuff."

Casey laughed and aimed a head slap at Chuck who easily dodged it.

"OK, I see your point. Maybe the operations reviews from the agencies will have some meat in it. I'll bring it up tomorrow at our briefing."

"I do have two weeks off, right, John? No interruptions. No quiet trips to the country? No 'oops, we need this nuclear warhead disarmed'."

"Yeah. Wouldn't look good if you had to hobble around. You'd kinda attract attention, Bartowski."

"Good. Let's go. I've got someone waiting for me in L.A. I'll call her when we take off and see if she's free to pick me up."

"Um, I called her 3 hours ago and told her we were taking off from DC and would be at LAX at 6pm and that's in two hours. Gotta allow for the cover, Chuck. She'll meet you at the Arrivals terminal. We've got a wheelchair and crutches on the plane."

"Make way for the cripple!"

* * *

LAX

Casey disappeared within seconds of getting off the plane. They'd long ago decided that he was never to come face to face with Jennifer. It just seemed like it should be that way. Actually Chuck was a little intimidated by the Major and figured Jenny'd pick up on it instantly and he wanted to avoid any unnecessary questions.

A flight attendant from one of the airlines took pity on him struggling to manage a bag, crutches and steer a wheelchair. It made things easier but also made Chuck feel even more self conscious.

"Well, thanks for the assist. I see my girlfriend up ahead. That's the brunette standing on her tiptoes looking out over the crowd. Thanks again."

He wheeled towards her, pissing people off left and right as he plowed through against the flow of traffic.

"Chuck!" She ran the ten feet separating them and bent down and took his face between her hands and kissed him, gently but deepening the kiss until she was ravaging his mouth, her tongue greeting his after her 'signature double tap' against his lips. She seemed desperate to get as much of her in his mouth as possible but she finally broke off the kiss and then hugged him so hard he thought he heard ribs crack.

"Where's Casey? Why the hell are you traveling alone, Chuck? You shouldn't have to carry a bag and crutches and handle a wheelchair, too. Are you feeling OK? Was the flight hard on you? Are you in pain? Where are your meds?"

God, it was great to be home.

She fussed over him a bit more and then wheeled him out telling him she was double parked in a handicapped zone but the cop gave her a break when she explained who she was picking up.

He looked at her and then at her Porsche. Maybe being home wasn't such a great idea. The wheelchair…

"Oh, crap, baby, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about anything other than getting you home." She looked at the wheelchair and then at her car. Maybe the wheelchair would fit behind the seat…

While Jenny and the break-giving cop wrestled the wheelchair behind the seat, Chuck balanced on his crutches and looked at Jenny for the first time – _really_ looked at her. She'd lost weight. He face seemed thinner and her obviously new jeans fit her like a second skin. _Has she been sick or has worrying about _me_ made her sick?_

Chuck folded himself into the Porsche while ignoring the burning in his thigh from the stress of using muscles he was told not to. Jenny got into the car and started it up and peeled out and was soon halfway to their condo before she spoke for the first time.

"OK, Chuck. I want the truth, not some bullshit line the State Department gave you to tell me. What the hell happened over there?" She looked at him and he could tell nothing but the truth would work – the truth outlined in his cover.

"Not here, Jenny, please. I want to be home and in your arms when I tell it. I still can't believe I'm not still in that stinking warehouse surrounded by all those dead and dying people. Please, when we're home and I feel…better."

He laid it on thick and felt guilty. They'd promised each other 'no lies between us' and he'd broken his promise with a line of bullshit that shouldn't fool anyone.

"Fine. But I will hear the story and you will tell me everything that happened to you, understand? Everything!"

* * *

Chuck maneuvered his way into their condo with Jenny helping him navigate the stairs. The wheelchair would be relegated to the closet once he felt more comfortable on his crutches. Two weeks on crutches and he would be on his own two feet.

He started to sit but she held onto his belt keeping him upright. "No, baby, our bedroom. I want to see what they did to you. C'mon, it's not like I haven't seen you naked or anything. If it makes you feel better, I'll strip, too."

"Jenn, you've lost weight and you look fantastic. Those jeans are so…form fitting. I'm worried. Are you trolling for a new man now that I'm out of the game?" He was kidding. She looked fabulous.

"You son of a bitch! I was worried sick about you and you think I lost weight to find another…"

He kissed her to shut her up. "I was just kidding. You look absolutely gorgeous. New hairdo, tight jeans, new boots…incredible. I appreciate the effort. You look like you could slip into a gunny sack and make it look good."

She blushed, pleased as all hell at his comment but ashamed she'd gone off on him.

"Clothes off, Chuck. I'll help with the pants and socks and shoes. I need to see how badly you were hurt and then work out a PT schedule for you. I've been running every morning and I'll just walk with you instead. I'll have you back in tiptop shape in no time at all, honey. Mmm, a project!"

She ran her hands over his legs and then helped him off with his shirt. She started cursing and touching and cursing and when she gently peeled off the dressing her language got utterly obscene.

"Those…it's a hack job if I ever saw one. The incision is sloppy and the stitching looks like a 1st week home-ec student. Chuck, you're going to have real problems if this isn't corrected. I'll ask around and find someone competent and have it redone, honey. The muscles look OK but you never can tell about adhesions. I thought Casey said you were in a hospital? This looks like it was done on the run in a moving vehicle going over speed bumps!"

She reapplied the dressing and then sat back on her haunches looking up at him.

"Spill. Details. No BS, either."

He patted the bed beside him and she sat down and held his hand. Telling the cover story wasn't all that hard and he didn't embellish it at all. It took about three minutes to cover all the pertinent details.

"Bullshit! I call Bullshit! You didn't get those bruises on your back and upper arms running through the woods. The bruises on your forearms are defensive bruises. The ones on your ribs and back are just…beatings."

He told her what had happened after he shot Casey only he worked it out in his cover as after they'd escaped but been recaptured. He didn't think she'd appreciate knowing that a bunch of NSA strikers had beaten the shit out of him thinking he was a Hound. That wouldn't fly any better than it had with Beckman.

"_Major Casey, didn't the team know what Bartowski looked like? How did this happen to my asset?"_

"_Well, he was wearing a balaclava and a crewman's helmet and in their defense, Colonel, he did shoot me when I approached him."_

"_They could have tranked him instead of beating the stuffing out of him. Didn't they see he was wounded?"_

"_Colonel, I stopped them as soon as I could catch my breath. He hit me with a 9mm at close range – 20 feet – right in the heart. If I hadn't been wearing a vest, we wouldn't be having this conversation."_

"Well, you're home now and we've both got time off so after I carefully screw your ears off we'll work out a schedule. I missed you, honey, and when Casey took my call and told me what happened I almost died! No one told me. No one would have told me if anything happened to you."

"Shhh. It's over, Jenn, and I'm safe and home where I belong. I'll always come home to you, Jenny. Always. Now, explain the mechanics of screwing my ears off. It sounds – painful!"

"Butt head!"

"Speaking of butts, yours is incredible. Stand up, baby, and pirouette. You've lost weight. I guess me being gone for 2 months was like going on a diet? I'm sorry if I worried you. Seriously, are you sure this is all exercise and you're not sick? If anything hap…"

She shut him up with a quick kiss.

"I'm in great health. I feel good and I'm watching what I eat and exercising and…Chuck, I want to get married as soon as you feel well enough. I've got it all planned out and it's not too elaborate. I've got a nice dress and all we have to do is pick the date. I've even lined up a priest, baby, and a small church. All you have to do is show up and say 'I do' and then when we both have vacation we can take a honeymoon trip. What do you say?"

"Tomorrow. I can stand just fine. Tomorrow. No, Saturday. No one gets married on a Thursday."

Friday was busy. Jenny had a nail and hair appointment, Chuck went to buy wedding rings but also picked up an engagement ring. _We never seem to do things in the right order, do we?_ He picked Jenny up at the nail salon and drove to the bank and that's when the trouble started.

Chuck greeted the manager and introduced Jenny as his future wife and told her he wanted to 'put her name on everything I own'. The manager, a 30ish dishwater blonde who personally managed his accounts looked at Jenny and sniffed.

_Nice body but so…plain._

The manager brought out signature cards, a duplicate key to his safety deposit box and new credit cards issued through the bank. Chuck had already called AMEX and her new card was 'in the mail'. While Chuck went to the restroom, the manager eyed Jenny with thinly veiled disdain.

"Well, you certainly got the brass ring, Ms. Burton. Mr. Bartowski is one of our best clients. We manage his investment portfolio although Charles insists on making his own deals. He has two checking and two savings accounts plus a few CDs. I'm having new checks printed up while you wait."

Jenny was somewhat uncomfortable with both the comments and the woman's demeanor but tried not to let it show.

"I don't know much about Chuck's finances. I have my own money and an excellent job with superb benefits. I've never really wondered about his financial status."

"So, how did you and Charles meet? At one of the dinner parties or at one of the University functions?"

"I head butted him and broke his nose. I took him out for coffee by way of an apology and the rest, as they say, is history."

The manager got a choked expression on her face. She and Chuck had dated a year or so ago but nothing had come of it, or at least not in her opinion. She wondered if Ms. Burton knew he was gay? He'd finally confessed when she'd shown up at his condo wearing a raincoat and a smile. Oh, well. At least she would have his money for company.

When Chuck returned from the men's room (actually he was taking a call from Casey) the manager handed him some computer printouts showing his account balances, his investment portfolio and gave them their new checkbooks and debit cards.

Chuck handed it all to Jenny and then got up on his crutches and thanked the manager for her courtesy.

"You have everything you need, Jennifer? Need any cash?"

"Nope, I'm fine. Got paid last Friday. Flush for a while, anyways." They'd always joked about money, never really worrying about it.

Jenny drove them back to the condo. She didn't want to hear any objections from Chuck. She could see he was tiring and from the discreet way he was massaging his leg, she knew it was aching. She made a mental note to check the height adjustment on the crutches.

"Go soak your leg in the tub. A plastic wound wrapper is on the edge. I stole one from work. Soak that leg and you won't have to sneak trying to massage the ache."

Chuck had just eased into the hot water for a decent soak when Jenny shrieked and then showed up standing in the door, pale and slightly shaken.

"What's wrong? Jenny? Jenny? Damn it, what's wrong?"

She handed him the accounts summary and then sat on the commode lid and waited for the explanation.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"You're freaking rich, Chuck, and you never said a damned thing."

"Correction, Jennifer, _we're _freaking rich and I don't discuss my finances outside of the family or the bank, understand? I made it legitimately but I donated an amount equal to Ellie's life insurance payout to charity once I got things moving and made money."

"So now you're going to marry me for my money, is that it? Well, we have to make an appointment with my lawyer to redraft my will and put your name on the property and all that stuff. I pay him enough. I should just call and say 'Hey, Rob, I'm getting married. Give her half'. That'd work."

"What property?"

"Um, this condo. The lodge at Tahoe. Uh, let's see…some acreage up north that probably won't ever be worth a dime but I like it up there. Oh, yeah, the boat, the truck, yeah, I think that's it. You'll need a will, too, Jenn, not that I expect you to shuffle off the mortal coil, but it's prudent."

He didn't mention his 'Fuck You' fund that he'd set up when Beckman started making noises about The Highway. If things got too bad he was just planning on telling her 'Fuck You' and heading out on his boat. He didn't know whether to mention it or not. Rob would handle that. He knew about his 'secret life'.

"So your net worth is about…"

"Damn it, Jennifer Lisa Burton, _**our fucking net worth**_!" He was getting pissed and he didn't know why. "If you insist on having 'yours' and 'mine' I suppose I could get Rob to draw up a prenup. I just want to make sure there's enough out there to take care of you and the kids if anything happens to me.

"Don't go anywhere, Chuck. I'll be right back."

She came back a few minutes later with her hair up on top of her head and nothing else on. She slid into the garden tub beside him and hissed at the hot water. Taking a wash cloth and soap, she started washing him.

"Jennifer, I'm not an invalid. I'm totally able to…whoa!"

"Shh. I've missed you and I've spent almost 3 months conjuring up fantasies to live out with you when you got home. This isn't the best one but it's in the top twenty or so."

* * *

It was a brief ceremony. The priest was a former CIA 'officer' from way back in the day before he got the 'call' and a few words from the Station Chief cleared the ecumenical decks of any roadblocks and a call to the Mayor's office resulted in a quick issuance of a marriage license.

Chuck kissed his wife for the first time but it wouldn't be the last.

As Jenny drove them back to their condo to change clothes and relax (HA! Not if she had her way) she couldn't take her eyes off the engagement ring he'd placed on her finger after the ceremony.

_Nothing gets done in the right order but the right things get done and that's all I really care about._

Now that she knew they were financially 'comfortable', her list of possible honeymoon locations got longer. And longer. A river boat cruise through the center of Europe was relatively inexpensive and seemed quite luxurious and offered a lot of day tours in various cities. Viking tours were sending brochures per her email.

"Penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Bartowski."

"This beautiful ring you surprised me with, our wedding, where to go on our honeymoon but mostly about how damned happy I am right now. I've never been this happy before in my life."

"Good. Let's keep it that way. Let's hurry home, babe. I can't wait to get you out of that dress and into bed. By the way, the photographer got all the poses you wanted and the videographer says he'll mail us DVDs by Wednesday. All in all, a perfect wedding by a perfect wedding planner."

A/N: Chapter 10's next. Sorry, dudes.

APR


	10. Chapter 10

Nik's Notes: I split this chapter into two because of its length and so the Angst-fest is in the next chapter. Sorry if you angst-feeders got your hopes up. Next time.

Nikki B

* * *

Agent Charles Bartowski soon learned that being an NSA agent married to a civilian had its benefits but mostly it had on-the-job problems. For example, operations requiring local support by female personnel.

Chuck was grumbling under his breath the entire way home from the new Castle site located under a closed strip mall. The entrance was concealed in a rental office that was manned, more or less, a few days a week to give people the impression that someone was trying to lease or rent space in one of the many closed stores. Many, hell. They were all closed after the NSA bought the building.

"_Major Casey, Agent Bartowski, good afternoon. I have a delicate mission for one of you. A known Fulcrum leader is giving a 'fund raising' dinner party this evening for influential members of the University community in Los Angeles in order to attempt to recruit some of the researchers involved in laser research. Agent Bartowski, you and a female agent will attend. It's black tie, of course."_

"_Who's the female agent?" Casey hated surprises._

"_We've 'borrowed' one from the CIA substation in Los Angeles. Agent Bartowski, this may present a problem for you since her cover job is at TLC Medical Services, your wife's current employer."_

"_Oh, crap. Is this agent going to remain in LA or am I going to get a break and she'll be transferred far, far away so that breaking my cover won't be a result?"_

"_Director Graham has made it abundantly clear that she will be under the control of the NSA for the remainder of her career and that any, repeat, any breach of confidentiality will result in being given over to the staff at Moab."_

_Casey was appalled at the lack of concern for their security. "Ma'am, with all due respect, Team Cardinal is too critical, given Chuck's 'burden', to risk its security on an operation this…worthless."_

"_No doubt, Major Casey, you've noticed the oak leaves on your collar and noticed the eagles on mine? The decision has been made. Agent Bartowski, you will be met at the hotel by this agent where the fund raiser is being held. She will accompany you on this endeavor."_

_Chuck sighed. He had no choice. "And the purpose of this 'endeavor'? And has she been briefed on the intersect?"_

"_To identify and photograph any one you flash on. You will flash, she will photograph. She has no idea you are anything other than a part-time operative. Now if there are no further questions, good day, gentlemen." Chuck often wondered what she would do if someone did have further questions?_

"Jenny, I'm home. I have to go to some damned black tie fund raiser for the University and renew my grant applications and press the flesh. I shouldn't be more than an hour, babe. Jenny?"

There was a note on the kitchen table written in her tight professional script:

_Chuck, my dearest husband and my only reason for existence:  
__That skank C-Cups has a hot date tonight and I have to cover for her in the Canyon Clinic. Sorry, baby, but I'll be back by 11pm or so._

_Jenny_

He smiled tightly. Good news. He wouldn't have to lie to his wife – again. Bad news, He'd have to lie to his wife – again.

He left a note in his cramped impossible-to-decipher scrawl:

_Dearest Buns of Steel:_

_Damn! I have to go to a university fund raiser and make my case to some grant people. I have to wear the damned monkey suit and I wanted you to be with me to dazzle them and make it much easier for me to get into their wallets. I'll bring Chinese or Thai home._

_Chuck_

* * *

Casey dropped Chuck off half a block from the hotel and ran routine commo checks on him and remote checks on the CIA 'date' and both were good. Chuck walked up towards the main entrance and just about shit his pants. There was Wendy Sanderson – C-Cups!

_If there's a God in heaven, please let Him have pity on me and make this a pure coincidence – please?_

Unfortunately, the Almighty was out of town and had left Heaven to St. Pete who thought the whole situation was a knee-slapper and decided that this was one appeal that the Almighty would probably have said 'no' to since He enjoyed a good joke as much as the next Deity.

C-Cups saw Chuck approaching the main entrance and wondered where her supposed asshole NSA 'date' was lurking? Probably still trying to figure out how to button his fly.

"Why Chuck Bartowski! I haven't seen you in forever! How's married life?"

"Cut the crap, Wendy. I'm _Cardinal_."

"_Jesus Christ! _You're the _Cardinal? _Does Jenny know?" She was thrilled to meet him but appalled that she'd been so wrong about his orientation if Jenny's comments were to be believed.

"Yes, I'm _Cardinal._ No, she doesn't know and it's going to stay that way. If she gets wind of what we're going to do here tonight, the real reason, you're days of seeing the sun will end and that's not an idle threat."

Wendy's eyes got big in her face and she paled. This was _not_ the Hunk she was used to dealing with. This man was an agent and he'd probably kill her if he even suspected she'd rat him out to his wife and save the government the room and board.

"Now, you're arm candy and I'm going to use my photographic memory to identify bad guys and you're going to take their picture with your purse camera. If you miss a shot, let me know and we'll go at it from a different angle. Understand?"

She nodded and put her arm through his and nodded again. "Ready, _Cardinal_. I'll never say a word to Jenny, never. I promise."

"Good, because it would be a shame to rob some poor bastard of the pleasures of the flesh in the future. Let's go." He'd stared at her boobs when he said it and made her blush. Her reputation was well known and what she'd said about him was equally well known.

The mission went smoothly. Chuck flashed, whispered in her ear and she laughed or giggled and pointed the jeweled clasp on her purse and squeezed the button and soon they had completed their rounds and walked to the front entrance to leave.

"Chuck, if you ever need me for _any_thing, I'm available." She kissed him on the cheek and then walked over to the taxi stand and caught a cab home.

Casey smiled broadly and said in a falsetto voice, "_if you ever need me for _any_thing, I'm available."_ And laughed. His opinion of the CIA just dropped another 10 points.

"Let it be, Casey. At least now she'll quit saying I'm gay."

"Oh? I thought you being married to Jenny would have put a stop to it."

"You'd have thought it, right."

* * *

At the next meeting of the Happy Hour crew, C-Cups kept looking at Jenny and it was creeping her out. Was this some lesbian come-on? C-Cups did have a unique reputation.

"Wendy, what is your problem? Quit staring." A direct frontal approach was often the most successful. C-Cups blushed and looked down at her drink.

C-Cups followed Jenny out to the parking lot and asked for a minute of her time. "I owe you an apology. I never should have said those things about Ag- I mean, the Hunk, er, Chuck, your husband. I'm sorry and it won't happen again. And if you ever need me to cover for you, just ask."

When Jenny arrived home and told Chuck about 'the encounter' he just laughed.

"Maybe she's a 12-stepper or something. Anyhow, it doesn't matter. I know I prefer women. Actually one woman. A hot brunette with a body to die for and the love of my life."

"Ha! You're just saying that 'cause you think you might get lucky. Well, you're right!" She plopped down on his lap and kissed him slowly and thoroughly, her tongue giving that unique double tap on his lips as if knocking on a door. He always let her in.

* * *

Agent Jennifer Burton Bartowski soon learned that being a CIA agent married to a civilian had its benefits but mostly it had on-the-job problems. For example: overnight missions with a male agent.

Montreal, Canada

Jenny got off the plane, walked through Customs quickly since she only had one carry-on bag, and walked over to a Tim Horton's kiosk for some coffee and to meet her contact.

"Well, hello again, Jenny. Fancy meeting you here?" Bryce Larkin was so slimy Jenny wondered how he kept his clothes on. _Ewww, that's a gross thought. 'Larkin and naked' in the same mental picture was disgusting. Chuck would never behave in such a manner, agent or no agent._

"I'm working, Larkin. What are you doing?"

"I'm working, too, Agent Burton. I'm…your partner for this event. Is that all you brought with you? For three days? My, my, you _are_ a most unusual woman."

"Th – three days? I'm supposed to run the op this evening and then catch a flight to JFK and then back home to L.A. Three days? Shit!"

_I'll have to call Chuck and tell him…something. Another lie. I need to tell him the truth. It won't change anything. It won't change us. We'll still be Chuck & Jenny. Nothing could ever change that._

"Take it easy, Jenny. The rendezvous had to be changed because our mark is under close surveillance. The whole plan has been stretched out to allow the mark to be safely extracted. No problems. I've got a room and you can bunk with me. Use the 'company card' and buy whatever else you need."

Jenny and Larkin caught a cab from the airport to the hotel where they'd be staying. They'd hardly spoken to one another during the cab ride or on the elevator to their floor. Once they got in the room Larkin started running the briefing for the changed mission.

"You'll need to change into something appropriate for dinner in a 4-star restaurant. Since we're 'married', keep the rings. We're going to 'bump into' the mark and scope out the opposition. You flirt him up while I scan and try to identify his security detail."

"Then what?" This hadn't been her assignment. This situation was fluid and she'd been told it was a straight meet, greet and extract, but obviously it was more.

"Then listen to him very carefully. He'll let you know the delegation's schedule for the conference tomorrow and when and where to meet him. Once we know that, we'll adjust our operation to fit the new schedule."

"Why is a minister of a friendly country 'defecting' anyway? I mean he could just get on a plane and fly south and the make a contact. Why all this mystery?"

"He's Fulcrum's strategic planner. He knows their short and long term goals and who the major players are and so that's why he can't just waltz into the US consulate and say 'Hi, I'm here to ask for asylum'. We don't know who is Fulcrum and who isn't. They've infiltrated federal and state agencies, foreign governments in the hemisphere. This guy knows stuff we need to know."

Sighing in resignation, Jenny carried her bag into the bathroom and changed into her 'little blue dress' that Chuck said matched and brought out her eye color so distinctly. She liked the way she looked in the dress and she really liked the way he looked at her when she wore it.

Larkin smiled when she came out of the bathroom. She'd done her hair up in a French twist thing and put on heavy eye makeup and she looked…like another man's wife. Larkin sighed. _This is going to be an interesting evening. And a very interesting night._

They had dinner at the restaurant designated as the meet site and Jenny tried to limit the small talk. She was nervous and didn't want it to show too much. She didn't like Larkin but his report on her actions was important to her and her job.

"So, what's married life like, Jenny? Tell me about the main man in your life?" He was curious about his competition. He wanted this woman for no other reason than she didn't want him. He knew from experience that if he could find some point of dissatisfaction with her 'hubby', that he'd have something to work at. She'd be hot between the sheets once he found the chink in the matrimonial armor.

"He's great! He's sweet and very caring. We're so right for each other. The only thing that bothers me is…" She stopped.

Larkin pounced. "Go on. What bothers you?"

"I don't know why he loves me. He could do so much better. I guess I should just be thankful that he does and be done with it. He's always there for me and he's very supportive."

"He knows you're an agent? Jesus, that's a major security breach…"

"No, he doesn't know. I meant he's supportive of my 'cover' job and all the travel I do. Most of my stuff has been interrogations, witness security or simple courier runs."

'_So she's shy, insecure and has questions about whether he really loves her. Perfect.'_ He ignored what he'd heard her say, preferring to hear what he wanted to hear.

"Well, having a situation like this allows you time 'outside' of your marriage to let loose. OK, there's the mark at the bar. Why don't you go and get yourself another glass of wine and make the approach. I'll watch for his detail."

"But we have a bottle here…" She didn't want to arouse suspicion. It was a lame move.

"Take advantage of the situation. Maybe he'll ask you to come up to his room. Take the opportunity and find out all you can. It's why you're here, Burton. Didn't they tell you? You're supposed to use a 'seduction' as a cover to get him alone. I told you he's under close watch. They've probably bugged his room, too, so get very close and listen. Pillow talk. After-sex talk. Y'know. Remember the Farm classes?"

"You want me to _sleep_ with him? Jesus, no fucking way. I'm not a whore. I'm a married woman and I won't cheat on him…"

"Listen up, bitch. You're the bait and we need to know about his schedule, changes and possible problems and if you have to slide between the sheets to do it, it's a mission requirement. That's why you're here. It's why they tasked you with this. He's not gay so I can't do it. We need someone to gather the information and a woman in his bed is the optimal solution. His handlers won't suspect a thing."

She chewed at her lower lip while her mind dealt with this horrible situation. She understood the means and reasons from a tactical standpoint. It was the moral view that she had a problem with. She would find another way. She wouldn't do this to Chuck, even if he'd never know.

"I'll do it. You make damned sure this never gets in the reports, Agent Larkin, or I'll stuff your balls in a blender and puree them and make you drink it before you die!" She jumped up from the table and stormed into the bar giving other dining patrons the impression of an arguing couple.

She stalked up to the bar beside the mark muttering '_Damn him. What an asshole!' _and demanding a '_double shot of Grey Goose on ice' _from the barman who dashed to fill her order. She didn't look like someone who was very patient.

The mark looked at her with amusement. He found her very attractive and wondered if her beau had wounded her pride enough that she wanted to get even…with him.

"Ah, the troubles with young love. Allow me to get that for you." She'd been fumbling with her purse looking for cash to pay the bar bill.

"Thank you. It's so nice to finally meet a gentleman in this town. I'm Sara, Sara Gamble. And you are…"

"Ah, Sara, a beautiful name. I'm Mark Rochambeau and I would like nothing more than to spend time with such a beautiful name and the woman who bears it. Do you like champagne? I have a bottle chilling for me in my room. If it wouldn't seem unseemly for such a woman to accompany a stranger…"

"Lead on, Mark. Like I said, it's nice to finally meet a gentleman. Are you always so…gentlemanly?"

"No, not always, Sara. Sometimes I can be quite the opposite."

"Good. I'm not in the mood for 'nice'. I feel wicked and want something hard and rough in my…life." She fixed him with what she hoped was a sultry look and when his eyes widened and then he smiled, she knew she had him.

He kissed her in the elevator ignoring the two men who'd followed them into the elevator car – apparently his 'escort' or handlers. His lips were thick and he tried to push his tongue between hers but she lightly nipped the end and then broke off and looked and him and whispered _'hard and rough'_ into his ear and nipped the earlobe trying not to gag.

He fondled her ass and she tried not to move away. It was only for a few minutes and she could handle being pawed until they were in his room.

They walked out of the elevator and down the corridor to his room and she noticed that one of the handlers remained by the door when it closed. She steeled her self and then walked into the bathroom and took off her dress and hung it carefully over the shower rod and kicked off her heels and rooted through her purse until she found her lipstick and a 'sweet dreams' mini-injector.

She walked back out into the room and found her mark already naked and in bed. He leered at her and patted the other side of the bed and she had to smile. He'd never remember a damned thing but she'd leave sufficient evidence and souvenirs of their sexual encounter to satisfy him and his handlers.

She crawled up the covers until her body was splayed across his and forced herself to kiss him deeply and then putting her lips to his ear whispered "Before we start, baby, there's something you should know. I find you _very attractive_ and I want to see you again, and I wanted you to know even before we get down to pleasuring each other tonight. So how about it. Where and when tomorrow night? Preferably somewhere less obvious since I do have a husband and I do like his money."

He babbled out his schedule and where to meet him for their next illicit rendezvous, hurried on by her knee that was massaging his crotch through the thick comforter.

"Good boy. Now, close your eyes and let Sara do all the work, baby. I'm going to give you such a ride and then I'm going to let you do whatever you want to me for as long as you can. Sara wants it hard and rough and don't worry about leaving marks. Sara likes it, baby, Sara likes it."

Disgusted with the leering face, she slapped the side of his neck with the injector and smiled as his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell unconscious.

Jenny hated this part but it had to be done. She applied a heavy coat of lipstick and began smearing kisses all over his face and chest, along his thighs but stopped at his crotch. Nope. No way. She carefully drew a ropy circle around the base of his cock and smeared it with a fingertip. Let him have his imagined thrills.

She washed her hands and face, cleaning off the disgusting lipstick and gargling with hotel-provided mouthwash. As a final touch, she took off her panties and put them in his hand and left her bra on the floor beside the bed. She planned on burning the dress when she had the chance. She would buy another one in the same color but she refused to ever wear it again.

She had a few hours to kill so she took a shower and then combed out her French braid and brushed her hair out. She saw the time and pulled on the dress and shoes and surveyed the room. Perfect.

She turned out the lights and walked out, nodding to the handler and smiling like a satisfied cat. He just smirked but opened the door and walked in to check on his charge. She was still waiting for the elevator car when he walked out and saw her and just nodded, one pro to another, on a job well done.

Jenny didn't notice the security camera mounted above the elevator doors since it was recessed and appeared to be part of the ornate filigreed capstone. It was designed to catch a full facial view when the 'guest' looked up at the floor indicator as all people eventually do.

Larkin was waiting for her in the lobby and as they walked out to the cabstand he couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.

"How did it go? Did you get the info we needed? Took you long enough."

"Got it. Got what _I_ needed, too. He was different. Very creative and seemed to know exactly what a woman wanted and needed. He's sound asleep, poor boy."

"Jesus, Burton, you didn't really sleep with him, did you?"

"No, dickhead. I just wanted to see your reaction, that's all." She fixed him with her best glare. "I already have one asshole in my pants. I don't need another! You best find another room, Larkin, or sleep on the floor. And don't ask for me again. You're a disgusting excuse for an agent and worse for a man."

The extraction mission went off without further glitches. The mark was waiting in the seedy motel conveniently near the airport and instead of a wanton brunette who'd given him such pleasure the previous night he was met by a CIA extraction team, tranked and smuggled out as cargo on a FedEx flight.

* * *

Jenny flew back to LA via JFK. She drove home but Chuck wasn't there yet so she took the blue dress and a knife and tore it to shreds. She tossed out the lipstick she'd used and took a hot shower, scrubbing herself almost raw until she stopped crying.

'_I am not a whore. I am not a whore. I am not…'_

She was lying on his chest, her finger tracing designs in his skin with a fingernail and she asked him a question. He was almost asleep but he became fully awake when he heard the question and it's tone.

"Chuck. Why do you love me?"

"I do. Do you doubt it, Jenn? Have I done something to make you think…"

"I didn't ask 'Do you love me? I know that and you show it in so many little ways as well as one really big way." She stroked him lightly and then asked again.

"I asked '_Why _do you love me?' Why, when you could do so much better?"

He sat up, pulling her with him. "What's wrong, Jennifer? What's happened?"

"Nothing's happened. I just got to thinking about it, that's all."

He sighed and thought about it, really for the first time. "Yeah, I could probably find a woman with a finer body, a more beautiful face, more graceful, yeah, if I looked around I could probably do better."

He felt her stiffen and figured he'd better hurry if he wanted to stay married.

"But I don't think I could find another woman who makes me glad I am alive, who makes me happy to finally end the work day so I can be with her, who is the last thing I ever want to see before I die but who makes me hope for a long life. I can't explain the 'why' just that I do. You make me happy, Jennifer, and if that alone isn't enough then maybe we need to rethink…"

He never got to finish the sentence. She almost screamed 'NO!' and hugged him and started to cry.

He had no idea what brought all this on but promised himself that he'd find out and if anyone had hurt her, he'd kill them. He would talk with Casey about some surveillance on her. Not on _her_, but on anyone she came in contact with. No one was going to screw up his marriage.

_Maybe it was time to broach the subject of my 'other job' and find out if my wife could still love someone who did what I do. I can always justify myself with Beckman's rationale that helping 300 million keep safe trumped helping (or hurting) ten or twenty. If Beckman tried to make good on her threat to put her underground, I'll just take her and run._


	11. Chapter 11

Thespywholovedme11

A/N: This chapter is pivotal and has a certain degree of physical discomfort and necessary angst. Live with it or skip it and wait for the next couple of chapters and be considered an emotional coward…lol. You'll also miss one of, if not THE salient point of this entire exercise.

APR

Nik's Notes: As promised. Your Angst. Don't look for much from me. I'm getting busy. he's coming home.

* * *

Unknown location  
Two days after the Montreal mission

The man examined the photograph and the looked over at the nervous man standing before his desk. "You are certain this is the woman who spent 'time' with our Planner the night before he disappeared? What do you know of her?"

"Her name is Sara Gamble. She's an American citizen who arrived here to meet her husband, reason unknown. She departed alone the following morning via commercial air travel to Washington, DC and from there to Los Angeles. We have informants planted at all airports and it was easy to get the surveillance footage. She left the terminal and drove her white 2005 Porsche out to the interstate. We have no further information."

"Los Angeles, hmmm? Alert our CIA plants in substations Los Angeles and San Francisco. Provide this photograph. See if she's one of theirs."

"Yes, Director. And if she is?" He wanted definite instructions.

"Kill her. Make it look like an accident. I doubt if she knows where our Planner was taken. She was just bait. This whole operation was highly compartmentalized. I've instituted complete closure of all operations the Planner was involved in. It won't matter what he tells them that way. We'll have to leave Montreal, of course. And sacrifice a few of the lesser ranks. A pity. Dismissed."

* * *

CIA Substation – Los Angeles

Agent Charles Decker received a coded message to meet with a Fulcrum agent later in the day. He hadn't intended to betray his country but he had a young daughter and one day she'd disappeared on the way home from school and he'd received a threatening call about her safety.

"Your daughter is unharmed and will be released on the corner of the school yard at 10pm. Meet a man at that same corner at 9pm. Come alone. Do not alert your superiors or the police. The results would be unfortunate for your pretty 9-year old."

Of course he follow his instructions. She was his little girl. He never saw the man's face, just heard his cold voice telling him that he would receive requests for 'information' from time to time and that so long as he complied, his daughter was safe.

When he returned to his car, his daughter was sleeping in the front seat. She'd been drugged but wasn't otherwise harmed. Over the next two years he received various contacts by phone and complied. Usually it was nothing more than confirming staffing, transfers of personnel, identities of 'guests' at various facilities, nothing really harmful or treasonous until now.

He met his contact that night at the same corner of the schoolyard he'd met him at 2 years prior. The implication wasn't lost to him. His daughter was still in jeopardy.

"Do you know this woman?" He looked at a photograph of Jennifer Burton and grimaced. "Yes, she's an agent just transferred from Treasury's WitSec division. She's based here in Los Angeles. She's married to a civilian, Charles Bartowski. What…"

"Excellent. You may leave now. We'll be in touch." He waited a few seconds and rolled down his window and called Decker back to him.

"One more thing…" He shot him twice in the chest with a silenced pistol when he turned at the query and then drove away.

* * *

The next two months were extremely routine. Chuck and Casey routinely went out and did feats of incredible daring, doing the unnecessary for the ungrateful (Beckman & Co). Jenny was teamed occasionally with Bryce the Lecherous Leper to run routine ops against suspected Fulcrum functions, picking up and passing critical data flash drives to undercover operatives throughout Latin and South America.

Chuck returned to LA after 3 days spent locating, chasing, and arresting a hacker who had broken into DARPA labs' computer system and taken classified data and development plans for a new Predator-type stealth drone and corrupting the resident files before exiting. He was 15 and Casey wanted to kill him and Chuck wanted to spank him. Beckman had him arrested and he soon became a face on a milk carton and a 'guest' of the Moab facility.

He was in a foul mood. Beckman refused to listen to his argument that the kid could be better used to hacker-proof government systems than being put down in the bowels of the earth. Her response: "I'm being extremely merciful because of his youth. If he were 18, Casey would have killed him."

Jenny had left a note saying she was out of town for a few days filling in at one of the rehab satellite centers for a staff member with a sudden family emergency.

_That makes 4 times in as many months. I know she loves her job and is very dedicated to her patients but this is getting ridiculous. I've only done the occasional overnight, except for this trip to Taos, New Mexico to pick up the hacker. Maybe I'll ask Casey to use his contacts and see what's up with TLC._

Chuck found having the intersect was very frustrating at times. Sometimes all he had to do was think about something and the data flowed whereas other times a visual cue was required. The data he pulled out of the intersect was sometimes old and out of date and other times, the files were incomplete or were corrupted.

The entire Omaha Project was a slap-dash affair. But sometimes the information was incredibly accurate, concise and timely. Those moments made the whole headache thing worth it.

He grabbed his coat and went out to grab some dinner and then go back to the Castle and do some more work on the intel dailies. When he pulled out of the lot and headed to the restaurant he didn't notice that he'd picked up a tail. His mind was on other things.

Chuck hated eating alone. He hated being alone. _Alone_ was defined as being without Jenny. He was _alone_ a lot lately.

Her job seemed to be involving more and more travel to 'cover' for staff at other locations, to receive updated training on new rehabilitation therapies and equipment and additional certification. He was proud of her dedication to her job and he knew she loved it. Still he absolutely hated being _alone._

When the waitress came to take his order he looked up at her and smiled and said, "I'm sorry, I just don't feel like eating alone. Sorry to have bothered you." He stood, left a $5 bill on the table and walked out of the restaurant.

He was pulling out into traffic when Jenny called.

"Hey, baby, it's me. I'm at the airport. Can I catch a lift home? I left my car at the office parking garage. We can swing by and pick it up there. Cheaper than long term parking. Have you eaten yet? I'm starved. Could we stop someplace on the way home? How are you? You're not mad are you?"

He had to laugh. He still couldn't get a word in edgewise when she talked on the phone until she paused as if to say 'Your turn'.

"No, I haven't eaten either. I'll be there in 30 minutes. We'll stop on the way back and then pick up your car, Jennifer, and we'll talk."

He hadn't really meant to be so curt but he hated driving and talking on the cell phone at the same time.

* * *

He thought again about the elephant in the room whenever they were apart.

'_To hell with Beckman. She's my wife and she'll keep her mouth shut. I'll explain everything except about the thing in my head, this 'burden'. I'll tell her I'm an agent of the National Security Agency and have been involved since before we met. Yeah, that's it. That'll work.'_

* * *

Jenny Burton Bartowski stared at her cell for a moment and then put it away in her jacket pocket.

_He called me 'Jennifer' and he never does that unless he's ticked off or mad or deadly serious about something. It's his emotional 'tell'. He was angry about something – probably her ill-timed and poorly explained absence._

_Oh, yeah. "Chuck, I'm a CIA agent and I and another agent, Ok, a guy, just spent a few days stealing flash drives from bad guys. Oh, did I mention it was in South America? Or that I slept in the same bed with someone not my husband? Nothing happened, baby, I promise." _

That sounded lame, even to her. It was the truth and she knew how he valued the truth. They hadn't even been together a year yet and already she was bringing lies into her marriage.

_OK. I'll tell him tonight. In bed where I can wrap my arms and legs around him and keep him from leaving in disgust until I can calm him down. Yeah. I'll tell him tonight._

* * *

His tail followed a discrete distance behind his SUV. "He's heading for the airport. Probably to pick up the target. Call for backup. We'll make our move when they're both in the SUV and heading home." He watched his lo-jack display and followed the blinking icon of the target vehicle as it drove towards LAX.

LAX  
Arrivals

Jenny hopped in the SUV after throwing her suitcase into the backseat. She leaned over and kissed her husband hungrily, holding his head between her hands and thoroughly enjoying his response. Her tongue double-tapped his lips and she enjoyed a little tongue and tonsil hockey before someone behind them blew their horn angrily.

"God, I missed you, baby. I'm so glad to be home. I'm starved. Are you hungry? Did you miss me?"

"Yeah, Jenny. I missed you and yes, I'm hungry. Let's eat and then go home or we can pick up some Thai or Indian take out. Whichever you prefer."

He pulled out into traffic and smiled as she prattled on about her trip, the people she'd met and how excited she was about the new techniques they'd been shown.

* * *

"Backup's in position to pick up the mark. We'll pinch the SUV off and ram them into the construction dividers. We will pull up beside them and the tractor will push them into the concrete divider. You sure you fixed the brakes and the rest of it?"

"I've done this before. Equipment malfunctions are so commonplace today. Shoddy workmanship. A real shame."

They both laughed. It was true but in this case, arranged.

* * *

The backup vehicle made its move about a quarter mile from the road construction. The lead vehicle pulled up along side Chuck's SUV and hung there while the backup vehicle, a large Freightliner tractor minus the trailer pulled up behind Chuck and then both vehicles slammed into Chuck's SUV.

Instinctively, Chuck slammed on his brakes but the pedal sank to the floor. The small pinhole in the brake lines expanded with the sudden pressure and ruptured leaving him with no brakes.

The lead vehicle slammed into Chuck again and Jenny screamed and started pawing through her purse for her pistol. The tractor slammed into them from behind and pushed the vehicle into a concrete road divider at nearly 70mph before turning to follow the lead vehicle north to a dumpsite.

The front end crumpled as designed on impact but nothing else went right. The airbags failed to deploy and the seat belts failed and Jenny Burton Bartowski was thrown through the windshield and out of the vehicle. Her husband's legs were crushed against the dash and the steering wheel crushed against his chest. He suffered severe facial lacerations.

Chuck's special 'On-Star' NSA equipment signaled a crash and things went to Hell shortly thereafter.

Two separate ambulances responded as police routed traffic away from the crash scene. John Casey appeared about twenty minutes after the wreck occurred and waited impatiently while EMTs from the NSA' special unit cut his partner from the wreckage. Another ambulance had already removed his wife's body from the scene.

"Beckman, secure. What is it, Major. It's late and…"

"Someone ran Cardinal off the road. It was deliberate. Witnesses state that two vehicles were involved. One vehicle pushed him toward the guard rail and a tractor pushed his vehicle into a concrete road construction divider. His wife's body has already been removed. Seatbelts and airbags definitely sabotaged and I figure they got his brakes, too. They're cutting him out of the wreckage with torches."

"Have him taken to our NSA facility for initial workup. Then, as soon as he's able, get him to Moab for treatment. How does it look, John? Is he conscious?"

"Yeah, in and out. He's calling for his wife. The EMTs are ours. They're sedating him in case of a spinal injury. It's…it's bad, Colonel. His wife's apparently DOA. I have Chuck's power of attorney. I'll handle arrangements with their family attorney. I know they both have living wills and statutory wills."

"Keep me informed. I'll want his intersect retention tested as soon as he's able to speak."

Casey checked the address book in his cell and called Chuck and Jenny's attorney at home. He wanted copies of the couple's living wills in the hands of the physicians and he needed to know about 'arrangements' if one or probably both didn't make it.

* * *

Rob Shadow hung up the phone and went into his study. He'd known Chuck almost all his adult life and he'd met his charming wife soon after they married. He remembered that meeting very well.

"_OK, Mrs. Bartowski, let's go through the formalities and then…"_

"_I have client privilege with you, Mr. Shadow, correct? What I say stays between us, right?"_

"_Of course. Now…"_

"_I'm a CIA agent and Chuck has no idea. It has to stay that way for his safety. If I die, you must follow these instructions __to the letter__, is that clearly understood?"_

_He was surprised and it showed. He tried to form a sentence but couldn't find the words. Chuck's wife was a CIA agent?_

"_You must call this number and identify yourself as my attorney and then tell them where the body is. They have procedures that must be followed. IF, if Chuck survives me, they'll probably follow my provisions in the will. If he doesn't, they follow protocols."_

Shadow pulled her file up on his computer, found the telephone number and made the call. He told them what he knew of the accident, where the body had been taken and that the husband was DOA (as instructed by Casey for safety purposes).

* * *

CIA Emergency Medical Facility  
South of Los Angeles

"We have an agent en route from a civilian hospital. Locals have been told she was DOA. This was definitely a professional hit. Husband's a civilian and we've learned he's dead at the scene. EMTs are cutting him out of the wreckage but he's dead."

"Our agent was ejected from the vehicle through the windshield. Be ready for major facial and cranial trauma.

* * *

CIA Rehab & Trauma Center  
Langley, VA

The director himself came and visited her, offering his condolences on her loss but offering her an opportunity to avenge her husband. She leaped at the opportunity, not caring at all that it would mean painful reconstructive surgery (like she wanted to look like grated cheese) and a completely new identity.

"Jenny, you're dead. You died in that wreck. You were cremated and your ashes were spread out across the Pacific in accordance with your will. You were the target of an assassination, probably because of Montreal but we're not sure. We can give you a new face, a new identity and a new purpose. Take down Fulcrum. Are you in?"

She couldn't really speak. Her face was a mess and her throat had been severely damaged requiring intubation to save her life. She nodded as vigorously as she could.

Jenny had known that he was dead the moment she'd awakened. She felt…empty and disconnected. She'd screamed his name even though she couldn't make a sound.

Six months after Jenny Bartowski had been wheeled into the Rehab Center, Sarah Lisa Walker walked out. She still wasn't completely comfortable with her new legend and identity but she still retained one precious thing from her previous life.

Her trainer and therapist had both objected to retaining what they termed a useless piece of the past.

"There is no place for sentimentality in the spy business, Agent Walker. Either put it some place safe or throw it away. You cannot wear it." Her trainer had been blunt, as usual.

"Agent, this is an unhealthy reminder of what you no longer have. Believe me, a complete break with the past is healthy and necessary." The therapist who'd worked with her to overcome her grief and learn to function again was concerned with her constant references to the past.

She'd been really nice about it but essentially she'd told them both to 'fuck off' and wore the jeweled key Chuck had given her their first Christmas together. It was all she had left of him. It was all she needed.

The first thing she did after being released was to demand the reports concerning her 'accident'. She made copies and returned the originals to her supervisor telling him "I won't read them. I just want to have them. They'll go in the lockbox."

She'd lied through her brand new pearly white implanted teeth.

She cried for hours after reading the extent of his injuries, how he'd regained consciousness and had called out for her and then how he'd finally succumbed to his massive injuries in the hospital. He'd originally been reported as DOA but Jenny found entries that indicated he'd hung on for almost 48 hours before letting go.

There was no grave to visit. No ashes to keep in an urn on a mantle. In keeping with the terms of his will, he'd been cremated and his ashes spread out over the Pacific. She could live with that. It's what he wanted.

Sarah Walker joined a team of agents and analysts whose sole purpose was to identify and eliminate Fulcrum agents and facilities. She was cold, driven and totally without mercy when it came to dealing with Fulcrum scum. None of her teammates could ever remember seeing her smile or hear her laugh, but at least one, her partner, had seen and heard her cry.

* * *

NSA Facility  
Moab, Utah

He hardly spoke except for what was minimally required by his duties, in answer to questions by the physical therapists that worked unstintingly to get him to walk and run and enable him to use his left arm again with only limited range of motion.

"We're really proud of how hard you've worked, Agent Carmichael. You should feel proud, too. You've come a long way in the months you've been here."

"Yeah. Thanks for all you've done. Can I go now?" His voice was husky and strained.

* * *

Casey came to visit him as often as possible and Chuck did most of the talking and that came as a pleasant surprise to those who monitored the conversations.

"John, I want out of here as soon as possible. I don't care what I look like. Chuck Bartowski is dead. I need a new identity and I want back in the field. I'm going to find every one of those Fulcrum bastards and kill them for what they did to Jenny."

"Chuck, take it easy. You'll be out of here before you know it. Um, honestly, man, you look like…your face…have you looked in a mirror?"

"I never was handsome, Casey. Yeah. I know what I look like. So what. I'm not out to impress them with my looks and if this freaky face scares them into talking, so be it."

"Chuck, Beckman's insisting on cosmetic surgery and some work on your voice. You can't be in the field if no one can understand what you say. I can, but I learned to listen after the first couple of visits. The average civilian or agent won't have a clue what you're saying."

"They understand 9mm, Casey. The universal language."

* * *

He underwent the surgeries and they did the best they could with his voice but it still sounded like he was hoarse. Hitting his throat on a piece of shattered steering wheel had done something to his larynx.

He felt he owed his very survival to Hell, well, Helen, who spent more time with him than anyone else. She was…unconventional at best and downright kinky at worst. Still, he owed her big-time. She'd crafted models of his skull and developed his new face. Too bad she couldn't do much for his voice.

The night before he was scheduled to be discharged she reached a decision. She had to know and Chuck, aka Charles Carmichael, was the object of her obsession and her decision. She was gay but there was something about Charles that stirred feelings she wasn't used to or comfortable with: heterosexual feelings.

Chuck was trying to sleep but it eluded him. There was a quiet knock on his room door and Helen slipped in. It was a Helen like he'd never seen before. Gone was the black lipstick, the boots, the leather clothing and the Goth look.

"Ishmael, I've never been with a man and I feel something for you. I want you to be my first and only man. Please, Ish, you owe me."

"We'll sleep together, but that's it. No sex. I'm married, Hell."

"Damn it, Ish, she's dead. I'm sorry but that's the way it is."

"I'm sorry too, Helen, but I'm still alive and I don't cheat, even on a dead woman."

She slipped out of his bed before 5am. He'd been gentle and loving but they hadn't done anything more than kiss and she had to initiate that. He finally asked her to stop and then took her in his arms and held her while she cried herself to sleep.

Chuck watched his best friend, his 'rock', leave and immediately felt her absence. The entire thing was ridiculous. She didn't love him and he didn't love her. It was just propinquity, nothing more. He realized it, she didn't. He missed her already but he had a role to play and she didn't fit in.

* * *

Casey came to pick him up 6 months after he'd been brought in. He also brought along his new partner and 'cover wife', Agent Carina Miller.

"Well, Charles, say hello to my partner, Carina Miller. She's ex-DEA and crossed over to us a while ago. Carina, this is my old partner, Charles Carmichael. He got banged up but he's back in the game now."

Chuck waited to see if she'd recognize him. She hadn't changed much. If anything, she was even more beautiful than before. He had had no idea that she was an agent when they dated. He almost asked if she remembered his wife but stopped himself. Jenny had been a civilian and he doubted Miller would have associated with her.

"Hello, Chuck. I'm Carina. John tells me you've done well here and are ready to get back to work. Level with me, Carmichael, are you really ready?"

"It's Charles, not Chuck. Yes, I'm ready. I've been ready since…I'm ready now. Casey, where are we based out of?"

"Same old place. Your new partner will be joining us soon. Don't shit a brick, Chuck, but Beckman was told to add a CIA puke to the team in exchange for full data sharing. Idiots have been holding out on us."

"Chuck, er, Charles…do we know each other? You look really familiar." Carina was looking at him in profile, going crazy trying to place his face and put a name to it. She knew he was a 'born again', with a whole new identity.

"Nope, don't think so. I'd remember a woman as beautiful as you are, Agent Miller."

"It's Carina, since we're going to be working so closely together, Charles. You look so _damned familiar._" She'd work at it like a rat terrier and maybe she'd make the connection. She hoped so.

"Casey, let's go home. Shit. I don't have a home anymore. It got sold in accordance with my will. Well, I'm rich. I'll just buy a condo near the beach. Uh, where's our stuff, y'know, from our place?"

"I got your stuff at my place and it's boxed up and ready for you. Make sure the condo's a two bedroom one, uh Charles. Your cover is that you're married to the CIA puke. You'll want two bedrooms."

Chuck's face turned white and he sat down on his bed, not trusting himself to stand at that moment. Carina was on him like stink on poop.

"Are you sick, Charles? Too much, too fast? Dizzy, nauseated?"

"No. No live-in partner. No way. Tell Beckman I said no 'married' cover. I work solo or not at all. I'll stay here and work the files. It's all she really wants. She'll be happy as a pig in shit."

"Damn it, Bartow…"

"Watch it, Major! It's Carmichael, remember?" he said sharply. His husky tenor sent a shiver down Carina's spine and she looked at him more closely than before.

Casey ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "_She's _the one who is insisting on the married cover. She's worried you'll eat your gun or something. Just go with it. Two bedrooms and you'll have transportation until they sign off on the convulsions. You know the rules. No agent can operate a motor vehicle or aircraft until 'event free' for a period of six months."

"Shit!"

Carina had sat there taking it all in. It couldn't be. He was dead. Casey told her he'd been killed right after he dropped the bomb that the man she thought she'd been in love with was an NSA agent.

She looked at him carefully. It had been two years. He was thinner, much thinner, and seemed stooped over as if in pain. There was gray in his closely cropped hair. His eyes were the big difference. They were dead.

She stroked his cheek with one finger and really looked at him, mentally elongating the nose, lowering the cheek bones and narrowing the chin and she gasped. She would never have seen the resemblance if not for Casey's aborted blurt.

"Agent Miller, please don't touch me. I'm ready to go, Casey, if you can get your foot out of your damned big mouth so you can walk."

* * *

CIA Headquarters  
Langley, VA

"No. Absolutely not. I work with a team but not with a partner. And I will _never_ accept a long-term cover as a wife. Find someone else, Director. It's not how I operate."_ I've already been a wife. No one could even pretend to be my husband._

"Apparently, Agent Walker, you're under the impression that the CIA exists to meet your needs and nothing could be further from the truth. Close out the three outstanding operations you have on the burner and then pack it up and report to Major Casey in Los Angeles."

"Director, please, not Los Angeles. I don't care what this knuckle dragging science experiment is capable of, please don't send me back to L.A."

"You have your orders, Agent Walker. From the reports I've read, you and the 'science experiment' will get along just fine. He hates Fulcrum with a passion and has registered 16 successful operations against them without a single failure. Well, there have been a few 'failures'. He doesn't like to take prisoners and he flaunts orders when it pleases him just like someone else we know."

"It'll take a month at least to close out the operations we've planned. Maybe two."

"You have until the end of this month to wrap it up or turn it over to your replacement. You owe us, the Agency, Walker. And now is the time we're asking for repayment."

He watched the blonde leave his office scarcely believing it was the same plain brunette whose hand he'd held all night while she grieved for her husband. She was right then. It had been her fault her husband was dead. Fulcrum had targeted her as a result of her success in Montreal.

* * *

"Beckman, secure. What is it, Director Graham?"

"Walker will be joining the team in L.A., General. She'll be there by the end of the month. As we presumed, she's dead set against the assignment but she'll carry it off. Oh, and congratulations on the stars, Diane. It's about time."

"I'll alert the team leader in L.A. Your Prima Dona had better not screw with my man out there. He's been through hell and then some just to walk and talk again. You got what you wanted – CIA representation on Team Intersect. To quote someone I actually admire, don't piss in the soup!" Her interest in the conversation was gone and she had things to do.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the damnably long chapter but I didn't want ya'll to suffer. Confuse about Helen? Just read on.

APR


	12. Chapter 12

Nik's Notes: Other than Mr. Potatoasshole, most of you liked it. I did. This one is long, sorry, I know your attention spans are measured in nanoseconds. I found tiny synonyms for the big words he used. R&R for updatd.

* * *

Pacific View Condominiums  
Venice, CA  
5AM

Charles Carmichael ran at least two miles every morning and again in the evenings along the wet sand packed firmly by the receding tide. This was his time with Jenny. His mind called up a specific instance and basically he relived it. It wasn't about sex. It was about being with her in spirit. Some mornings he couldn't concentrate enough to really get into it and those mornings he was a bear.

This morning he was mulling over unpacking 'their' stuff that was stacked in boxes in 'his' bedroom, the much smaller of the two. He only slept in it. The larger bedroom he'd set aside for his partner, 'the wife'.

_His_ bedroom contained his clothing issue and his watch, nothing more. The Rolex was in a glass case on the dresser. He never wore it. He wore the new NSA watch with the GPS gizmo that allowed his teammates to know where he was and a 'panic button' to summon aid.

He felt his cell vibrate against his side and slowed and stopped, totally winded.

"What?" He was lucky to manage one word at a time. His lung capacity was slowly recovering but as the physio guy had told him, 'his tidal volume was only 2/3 of what was normal for someone his size' after the accident.

"Miller, secure. That's not proper procedure, Charles." She was laughing at his lack of proper decorum and adherence to protocols.

"Miller, what…do you…want?"

"Don't push yourself so hard, Charles. It'll come back. How many miles today?"

"Still can't…manage…more than…two." He hated feeling weak. It made him feel inferior and he hated that even more. He wanted to be who he was before the assassination attempt – at least physically since he could never get back what he'd lost or whom.

"That's still pretty good for someone who was almost dead 9 months ago. Beckman called. We have a mission. Well, Casey and I have a mission. You're in the commo van doing your Brainiac thing. I get to play soldier and Casey's already bitching about the mission objective. I'll pick you up in 20 minutes. Please shower – for me?"

"What? You don't like…sweat?"

"Oh, baby, I'd love to make you sweat…"

"Twenty minutes." She was laughing when he disconnected. She loved teasing him. But deep down inside, she'd meant it.

* * *

Agent Sarah Walker stormed out of the detention area in an almost blind rage. She'd been interrogating a Fulcrum operative that her team had captured the previous night during a raid on a suspected Fulcrum Hive. She'd directed four teams of agents and this piece of scum was the only survivor. The rest were either dead or had escaped capture.

She was angry because she'd been stopped short of getting the information she needed.

'_Interrogation is supposed to be brutal and violent. He had no right stopping it. If he couldn't handle the gore he should have stayed in the team room until I was done. It's not like the scumbag is blind. He's still got an eye left.'_

She confronted her temporary partner in the corridor.

"Don't you ever interrupt my interrogation again. I was this close," she held her fingers an eyeball's width apart, "to getting the information I needed and you had to get in my way. Shaw, if you're too weak to handle the questioning, stay out of my way. Go read the regulations you're so fond of quoting. Go spar with one of your boyfriends but _if you ever interrupt or impede me again, I'll fucking geld you!"_

"You're nuts, Walker, you're a danger to the Team. This vendetta of yours will get one of us killed some day. You rush into the fray like you don't give a shit who gets hurt. I'm glad you're transferring out to some soft job because you need the break."

She turned on her heel and stalked away. _'Is that what this new assignment is? A vacation for the burnout? I'm not a burn out. I'm…I'm not. I have a purpose, a cause, a reason. I'm not a burn out!'_

* * *

Warehouse Complex  
LAX Freight Terminal  
8pm

"Let's review the mission. Miller and I go in the target storage area and locate the container and shipping crates in question. Chuck, you monitor and run the mission using our helmet cam feeds and keep us on track. We open the target crates and film everything. If we find what we're looking for, we take it and egress. Questions?"

There were none. Casey and Miller ran to the fence, cut the lock free and entered the compound. Casey forced the lock on the metal door and they were in. Chuck monitored the cam feeds and directed them to the supposed location of the target shipping containers containing the target crates.

Chuck heard a truck pull up to the fence and looked out the window and saw a UPS truck discharging armed men in civilian clothes who formed up and began checking the fence perimeter. Someone, probably Casey, had tripped an alarm.

"Guys, bad guys with automatic weapons in civilian clothes on their way to you. Get out! Head north to the main entrance. I'll meet you there. Keep the feeds coming and I'll direct until…shit." He was out of breath again.

"Bartowski, stay in the damned van! Meet us at the front door. We're moving now."

He needed to distract the bad guys. He took a trank pistol from the bag and two 9mm pistols and walked over to where two of the bad guys were standing 'guard' on the fence gate.

"Hey, I'm looking for a job. I'll do anything. Sweep floors…night watchman…anything. I really need…a job."

"Get the fuck out of here. This is private property. We ain't got no jobs for someone who looks like death warmed over. Move it. And get that piece of shit van outta here." The guy emphasized his point with a shove. The other guy walked over and told him to follow the others to find the 'trespassers'.

"Fella, we don't have any work for you. Sorry. Here, this is all I got. This is police business and…you don't want to get involved. Maybe someone at the terminal can use you. Sorry. Take the money and get something to eat. You look like you haven't eaten in a while."

He'd smiled and pressed two $20 bills into Chuck's hand and then turned to follow his partner. His kindness saved his life. Chuck pulled the trank pistol and shot him in the back.

Chuck followed the other guy into the warehouse, telling Casey that five were in pursuit, heavily armed in civilian clothes.

"Casey, one's down at the fence. Tranked. I'm following them in." He studiously ignored Casey curses and Miller's entreaties for him to leave them and get in the van.

He quickly found the 'pusher' from the fence and shot him with a silenced pistol. He stepped over the body and then dog trotted toward the target following the sounds of a fire fight.

"Bartowski, get out! Take the van and get out. We're trapped in a damned cul de sac of containers."

"Will do, Casey. Good luck." He continued on, running toward the sound of the guns.

The Fulcrum agents were on either side of the alley that formed the cul de sac. They were taking turns firing down the alley and return fire was inaccurate and sporadic.

He shot the first two with the silenced pistol and drew the immediate attention of the remaining two who opened up on his position behind some crates.

"Casey, now would be a good time to catch…them from behind…please?"

He was pinned down and he knew they'd use fire and maneuver to catch him in the open and then it would be all over. _Maybe I'll luck out and find Jenny in Heaven – assuming I pass by St. Peter. Jenny wouldn't have had any problems. She's probably got her wings already. My angel is an angel. I like that._

He hadn't planned on dying just yet but he missed her and this seemed like an opportunity to end things without the mortal sin of suicide. Sometimes he damned his Catholic upbringing. Suicides didn't go to heaven. He'd have to at least _try_ to save himself.

He unscrewed the silencer and threw it aside. With a pistol in each hand he stepped out into the corridor and blazed away at the advancing Fulcrum agents. Casey chose that moment to open up from behind them and they were dead in less than two seconds.

"Bring the van around. Carina caught one in the ass. She can't walk. Shit, no prisoners. I told you to stay in the van, Chuck…"

"No, you told Bartowski to stay in the van, and he's still there. Carmichael came to cover your ass. I'll be right back with the van. Clean up the trash, John, and bring Miller out with you."

Casey carried Carina out to the main entrance and waited impatiently for the van. He was going to kill Bartowski…shit, Carmichael. The bastard splits hairs.

Chuck drove up in the van and helped Carina into a seat. "Well, Miller, someone got a piece of ass tonight…neener neener."

"Screw you, Carmichael. And who the hell is this?" The Good Samaritan was trussed up and asleep on the floor of the van.

"A prisoner. A nice guy, too. Gave me $40 and told me to get a meal. Betcha he'll sing with minimal persuasion. Casey, the computer chips are in that cardboard box on the floor. Don't kick them around."

Carina started to snicker but stopped with a gasp of pain. "Hey, lie down on your stomach and let me take a look at your boo-boo, sweetie."

"You wish, Charles. It'll keep. It was a ricochet and I pulled the bullet out already. Didn't do much more than pinch and hardly broke the skin although it's bleeding like a…"

"Maybe Casey will kiss it and make it better, Miller." Chuck started to laugh but it turned into coughing.

"Chuck, you all right back there?" Casey was driving the van back to the Castle. There was still a lot to do. Casey's report would include Carmichael's failure to follow protocols and his blatant disregard for his own safety.

"Yeah. Just breathed wrong."

Later that night Carina and Casey had a long conversation about the mission. He'd been right. The Fulcrum agent had caved and sung like a bird. Casey hated it when Carmichael was right even if he didn't say 'I told you so'.

"John, Chuck's got a death wish. You saw what he did. He just stepped out into the alley and let fly, not caring a whit for any protection. He had his damned vest unzipped!"

"He saved us both. I think he forgot about the vest. It was pretty warm in the van and he probably unzipped it and then forgot in the rush of the fight. It's how he always operates, Miller, on the edge. He's an adrenalin freak, I swear that's all." It was Beckman's decision that counted. He'd have to see what fallout developed from his report on the raid.

"Well, I think he needs counseling and maybe a doctor to manage his diet and rehab. I'm going to send the General a message about it. The most she can do is tell me 'no'."

* * *

Beach front  
Pacific View Condominiums  
Venice, CA

He ran another two miles and then walked another mile as a cool-down. He went through the deep breathing exercises designed to stretch and strengthen his lung capacity and endurance. He hated wheezing and gasping for breath but it was better than the respirator. That had been hell.

He was putting it off. He had to unpack their stuff and sort through what he wanted to keep and what he wanted to store or throw out. He knew he'd feel better once he got it done but he was afraid of what he'd find. He couldn't deal with too much. Maybe after he took a shower he'd open just one and then open another the next night. It would give him something to do.

* * *

Watergate Hotel  
Washington, DC  
10PM

"Walker, secure."

"This is General Beckman. Please make arrangements to be in my office by 2pm tomorrow. You'll be here for at least one week, maybe two, and then you'll be posted to Team Carmichael. Bring whatever you'll need. A cleaner team will pack and ship your remaining personal items to Los Angeles."

"General, does my Director know about this? I'm in the middle of closing out operations and am not finished."

"You're coming at his request. Have a nice evening, Agent Walker."

'_Shit! I'll bet that little shit Daniel Shaw had something to do with this. He's too soft to be an agent. He's too involved with rules, regulations and protocol to get anything done. I pity my team.'_

She threw everything she owned into the two American Touristers and then made arrangements for a car to take her to FT Meade. She slept and for once didn't dream. A nice change.

* * *

Pacific View Condominium Complex  
Venice, CA

'_Shit. Why couldn't I have picked another box to unpack. It had to be our pictures. Why couldn't it have been bills or underwear or anything else?'_

He was holding their wedding portrait and running a fingertip across her face. She looked so happy and so beautiful. He set the picture aside and took out another one. The casino picture. He face was fuller but she still looked like his Jenny. She was still beautiful. She was his angel.

He wiped the tears from his cheeks and placed both pictures on his dresser and went in and took a shower and slept without dreams for the first time since the accident.

* * *

NSA Headquarters  
FT Meade, MD  
2PM

Diane Beckman personally met Agent Walker at the entrance to the executive offices and walked her through the security scanner. She had suspicions and she wanted confirmation. Too many coincidences to be 'coincidences'.

"Agent Walker, this is new technology, installed just yesterday, and we're having bugs worked out but would you please place your right palm on the display?"

She did as she was told and was impressed with the speed and efficiency of the confirmation of her identity. The CIA had done a superb job in placing all of Jennifer Burton's physical records in the file with Sarah Walker's and the reverse also.

Alarms sounded, doors locked and several guards appeared with automatic weapons trained on the intruder – Sarah Walker.

"Who are you? Who sent you? Take her to interrogation, do a strip search and a body scan. I'll be along in a few moments. Do not start questioning her without me."

She turned from a shocked Sarah Walker and stormed off to her offices. By God, she would have answers.

"Graham, secure." He hated it when Beckman called him on his cell.

"You piece of shit! How could you? You reported her as DOA and she's alive! What kind of man are you, Langston? What purpose does this deception serve?"

"Um, Diane, I don't have a clue what you're ranting on about. How about a hint since your panties are obviously painfully twisted."

"Jennifer Burton Bartowski! She's alive and in my holding cell. You reported her dead on arrival. Why? You knew she was married. Why have you done such a foul thing?"

"How - ? Wait, her husband was one of _yours? _We checked him out when they started dating. Standard operating policy, you know that. He was a harmless civilian. We stayed clear of their personal involvement except to forbid her to divulge her true profession. He grounded her and gave her stability."

"Lanny, we reported him DOA as standard operating procedure. We assumed an assassination attempt on our agent. Our vetting of Jennifer Burton didn't turn up a damned thing. Oh, shit, if this wasn't so heart breaking it would be funny." She laughed bitterly.

"So what? I don't mean to be callous…oh, crap. He's alive, isn't he? How did you twig to her?"

His mind was going a million miles a second evaluating options and ending up with a horrible moral dilemma. Well, the Agency dealt with those every day. Deny, deny, deny.

"You replaced everything about 'Burton' with Walker's data but you couldn't reach my files. Our new identification scanners ran the palm print against the Federal database and confirmed her identity as 'Sarah Walker, CIA' but out test database was still uploaded and it was from 'my' files. Up popped 'Jennifer Burton Bartowski'. Fingerprints don't lie, Langston."

Beckman tried to put herself in Graham's position and examine the situation as it had unfolded that evening. His agent was the probable target, not her civilian husband. She survived with injuries and to forestall future attempts, they 'let her die'. She had done the exact same thing.

"Director, our SOPs have screwed this situation up. It's a real FUBAR."

"I suggest we tell her, reunite them, and let them work it out once we explain things. Since you discovered the 'error', _you_ get the privilege of explaining things. I guess this is a good thing, right, Diane? I mean, you _do_ want to make this right? We can reassign her, put her back in L.A. with a new identity, get her back with her husband, explain the surgeries, get her therapy…"

Beckman started to laugh and Graham was momentarily shocked. She never laughed, not this way. There was an almost hysterical and maniacal twist to it. He shuddered.

"Your agent is being assigned to Team Cardinal and is going to partner with the intersect host. That's hysterical, Director. Absolutely hysterical. Charles Carmichael is a construct, a 'reborn'."

"Oh. My. God. He's Charles Bartowski. He's her husband. She's his wife. They're partners." He tried not to laugh but couldn't help himself. Fate has dumped a load of crap on those two and somehow…

"Should we tell them?"

"No. I'll keep you in the loop. Langston, we really need to work closer together if we're going to have 'joint' operations. We need to open our databases to one another, especially given the number of defections to Fulcrum. We can figure out how to update the intersect files and use it to ferret out double-agents."

"Fine. Get Combine approval. I suppose we'll have to bring in DIA, State, Treasury and DoD. It's going to get ugly."

"I'm going to interview Walker, come clean on her dead husband's involvement and leave enough breadcrumbs that she should make a connection eventually over time. He's been through the plastics shop and doesn't look quite the same, plus he's…unstable. Springing this on him might just drive him over the edge. First of all, he won't believe me and secondly, no matter what your agent tells him he'll think it's a plot to keep him in check and in control. No, if this is to have a happy ending it's got to be their own doing."

"Diane, that makes no sense at all. Sure, she's been through the plastics shop too, but surely if they just talk, share experiences and common memories…"

"Lanny, I've done too damned good a job of convincing him that the enemy would do anything to get their hands on the intersect. If she comes to him with the truth, you said she's been through plastics, he'll assume an op against him and either go off the grid or kill her and report back for reassignment. It's what we've trained him to do. 'Kill the opposition. Kill any threat to the intersect. Self-terminate if captured or compromised.' It's too damned risky."

Beckman terminated the conversation and sat back and planned her next move. Obviously she'd have to tell Sarah Walker some of the truth. If she dealt with everything up to the night of the assassination attempt, planted a few cues and hints, things should work out.

She called her assistant and issued orders.

"Bring Agent Walker to my office. There's been another database error. Have a team tear down the scanner and recalibrate it."

* * *

Diane Beckman met Agent Sarah Walker in the reception area of her office suite. She didn't look anything like Jennifer Bartowski. Blonde hair, different bone structure. She even carried herself differently.

Sarah followed the little General into her office and took the chair the General pointed to.

"Agent Walker, my apologies. Our new scanner initially matched up your data and correctly identified you but sounded an alarm when an older database was consulted…our test database. It's new technology and prone to glitches."

"Would you like coffee, Jenny?"

"No, ma'am, thank you. I…" Her face turned white and her hands started to shake so she planted them together in her lap. She looked at the General with such a pitiful look that Beckman changed her approach immediately.

"Chuck was an amazing young man, Agent Walker. You both were very happy and I'm so sorry for your loss." She watched as countless emotions rippled her face.

"I, I suppose I could deny it but obviously your technology is superior to the CIA's or else Director Graham lied to me for some unknown reason. And yes, General, we were incredibly happy. How did you come to know my husband?" _'Please don't tell me he was an agent! Please, don't tell me it was all a sham, some damned NSA operation that required him to marry me…please…'_

"When you married Bartowski, Major Casey ran scans and forwarded them here and we filed them under 'Jennifer Burton Bartowski'. The CIA couldn't reach my files."

"So why are we having this conversation, General?" _'She's going to tell me it was all a sham, so damned mission requirement.'_

"He was an agent, well, no, he was an operative and asset long before he met you, Jenny. I recruited him myself out of Stanford. Y'know, don't you, that he had no idea you were an agent. He just met a girl, fell in love, and married her. He wanted to tell you but I forbade it. I told him I'd have you taken into custody and he'd never see you again. I guess it was the one time he didn't call my bluff. You were that important to him."

"Why are you telling me all this? I suppose this means I'm off your L.A. team."

"I just wanted you to know what a special man Chuck was. As for L.A., it's your choice, really. Are you ready to face the ghosts and demons of your past and embrace the good memories? I'd like you to accept the assignment. I think it would do wonders for your outlook on life. He'd want you to take it. God knows Cardinal could benefit from the influence of a strong woman in his life again."

"I want in, General. I want in." She felt something like a smile spread slowly across her face, making her unused muscles stretch into unfamiliar positions. A smile.

"Fine. Let's get your travel arrangement finalized and get you back in the game. Your new partner…I just hope you'll have patience with him, Agent Walker. He's not what you're used to. He's willful, stubborn, a major league jackass but incredibly talented and…" She stopped and looked almost at a loss for words.

"Yes, General, and…"

"I was going to say a risk taker but that would be inaccurate. He is. But your primary function is to keep Agent Carmichael from getting himself killed. He is despondent over a personal tragedy and is… No, he won't commit suicide, not actually, no. He'll willingly let someone else kill him. Your job is to keep that 'someone else' from being successful."

She nodded her head, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"Agent Walker, Jenny Bartowski is dead. Let her rest in peace. We'll never speak of this again, Sarah, understand?" She would broach the subject of Agent Miller's email describing Carmichael's condition and mental health before Walker left. The After Action report on the raid on the Fulcrum site would provide interesting reading for the young blonde woman and a trail of breadcrumbs if she was as intuitive as her husband.

Sarah nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak. She'd been given a great gift – knowledge about her husband and what he'd really been but the General had also put her fears to rest. He had loved her for her, not for a damned job.

"I assumed you would. There are briefing packets on the members and classified After Action reports on Team Intersect waiting for you in your quarters at the Guest Lodge.

Sarah Walker had two weeks to get ready for L.A. and her suicide-bent partner, Charles Carmichael.

* * *

NSA Guest Quarters  
FT Meade, MD

Sarah read the report again for the 4th time. Her new partner was a physical wreck from injuries sustained on an unrelated mission and had only just been returned to duty. He was 28 and had been an agent for nearly 6 years. Some of the missions were routine and mundane, exactly like hers in the CIA while others were…terrifying.

She read about Team Cardinal in Iran that resulted in injuries due to an equipment malfunction, the assassination of minor drug smugglers, the elimination of several Fulcrum data nodes, intel centers and an unsuccessful attack on a Hive that sidelined the team while Major Casey recovered from gun shot wounds.

The team had 16 successful ops while her team had managed only four and the last one was a total bust thanks to Shaw.

The reports had been heavily censored whenever domestic locations were involved, most dates were redacted and all mention of background after 2005 were censored. She thought that was curious and began rereading the reports to see what else she might have missed by its absence.

The report that covered the episode captioned as the 'Fox and the Hounds' changed Sarah's mind a little. The 'Cardinal' was relatively new to Agent status. He had been classified as an 'operative/asset since he was recruited.

The reports in the past two months mentioned another operator working with the team under cover as the wife of the military team leader but no mention of any other members until two months' past when dates began to appear again.

The last report synopsis read like some summary for an action movie except that the actors were not mentioned by name except in conclusion.

'_Team infiltrated suspected intel transfer point. Two team members entered warehouse while [This entry deliberately left blank] remained in commo unit in immediate vicinity of target and monitored and [This entry deliberately left blank] for any intel captured through helmet cams. Entry team tripped sensors and six (6) heavily armed Fulcrum agents arrived in civilian dress and followed team into target warehouse. [This entry deliberately left blank] left commo van against orders and killed one of two Fulcrum agents left to guard the access point and captured and secured the other. [This entry deliberately left blank] then eliminated two more Fulcrum agents and relieved his team mates who were pinned down. [This entry deliberately left blank] again disobeyed orders to return to a secure location and assaulted remaining enemy agents who were terminated by either [This entry deliberately left blank] or Major Casey. Agent Miller suffered a GSW to left buttock. Captured Fulcrum agent divulged critical intel and was removed to holding facility in Los Angeles. Neither Major Casey nor the Cardinal were injured._

She now had three names to work with. She went back and reread the team reports and found several more references to 'Major Casey' but only a few to 'the Cardinal' or 'Cardinal' and only the most recent report contained references to 'Agent Miller'.

Carmichael's briefing package was heavily censored and was basically useless. He'd been recruited while attending [redacted], had a civilian job [type/location redacted], and had married [redacted] but Sarah saw his that his file listed his current marital status as 'single'.

There were more contradictions than facts. She assumed that he was divorced. Was that the 'personal tragedy' the general had alluded to?

By inference, 'Cardinal' was Charles Carmichael, 'Major Casey' was John Casey but she couldn't find a link to 'Agent Miller' who was probably the newest member of the team and the Major's 'cover wife'.

Sarah spent the next week requalifying with various weapons, learning how to handle new NSA ELINT devices and filling out forms and more forms. She finally felt she was fully integrated into the NSA way of doing things when she was asked to stop by and see General Beckman before the end of the duty day.

* * *

NSA Headquarters  
FT Meade, MD

Sarah felt uncharacteristically nervous about meeting the General. The meeting was not scheduled and her 'invitation' was delivered by phone by the General's aide. She fiddled with her coffee and then the secretary told her the General would see her. She stood, straightened her suit jacket and knocked and entered the office.

"Agent Walker, your assignment has changed. Instead of Los Angeles, you'll be joining the team en route to Cyprus. Team Intersect is moving quickly to eliminate a seller of two tactical nuclear warheads before he meets up with the buyer. Agent Carmichael will take the place of the seller and then identify the buyer or buyers and eliminate them if possible. Swing by the armory and they'll have your issue ready."

"Ma'am, what about my personal effects? Will they be delivered to Los Angeles?"

The General looked almost sad but answered, "Of course. They'll be delivered to the Carmichael condominium in Venice." She hesitated before continuing, as if searching for the right words.

"Agent Walker, this mission is a Category 9, and is purely voluntary on your part. The Team has already agreed, but I need to advise you that the mission is considered _extremely_ high risk and you may decline to participate without prejudice."

Sarah blinked and thought quickly. All her missions, except the Montreal deal, had been ones and twos. Montreal had been a four, possibly as high as six. This was a 9 and considered basically a suicide mission. _'Of course, it's what he really wants. To die and…but why? He's only 28, for God's sake.'_

"Where and where do I join my team, General?"


	13. Chapter 13

Nik's Notes: I'm going to be splitting soon so motivate me to post before I go south for Xmas. No way am I staying up here and freezing my adoubleess off. You Yankees are crazy peoples.

* * *

Their government 737 landed at Andrews AFB, refueled and picked up the last member of Team Carmichael. Casey sat with Sarah Walker giving her the mission brief, details of their flight plan but held off introducing her to Miller and Carmichael. He wanted her to understand some things about the team dynamic and the members before letting her loose on Chuck.

"Agent Walker, I've read the reports and also your CIA bio. I see you and I work a lot alike and that's good for the Team. Miller is a good agent but has problems dealing with Carmichael. She's a mother hen where our young genius is concerned and I think she's probably got the hots for him. Just so you know."

"Fine. You and I will probably end up in front then. That's where I like it. This mission is so ill-defined, Casey. Can Carmichael really pull off a deception like this? His bio is skimpy and the few mission reports I've been given access to read like Tom Clancy on steroids."

Casey laughed and looked at Walker with new appreciation. "Yeah, Team Carmichael gets a lot of 'out there' missions and we always seem to get it done. Charles doesn't like protocol, thinks way the hell out side of the box, lacks communications discipline, rarely follows orders to stay in the back…"

"So why does Beckman put up with him? Is it just because of the thing in his head?"

"It's because we win, we get it done. Don't share this with the moron but it's because of his unorthodox approach to things that we've done so well. That and his tendency to throw himself in front of the lions. Miller thinks he's suicidal but he's not. He just doesn't have a high quotient for personal survival is all. It's why you're here. Keep him from getting blown away. We need him. He needs you. Just don't judge him until you know him better."

* * *

In the front of the aircraft Carina was gently stroking Chuck's hair, wishing she didn't know what she did. It was hard for her to separate him from his previous incarnation. She'd fallen for him and then gotten reassigned but she'd never quite gotten over her initial infatuation. If things had been different, if she was Chuck's 'cover wife'…well they weren't different and she wasn't his 'cover wife'…

"Chuck, time to wake up, sweetie. Your 'wife's' finally made her appearance…"

He sat up, taking in the situation. He'd fallen asleep and Carina had lifted the seat arm and had him lying across her lap…again. But his initial thought when he heard 'your wife's finally made her appearance' was 'Jenny' and he'd felt his heart lighten but then just as quickly reality set in.

"Sorry about flaking out on you, Carina. Hope I didn't drool all over you."

"Baby, you can drool all you want…"

"Jesus, will you please stop with the teasing? One of these days I might take you up on it and then you'd be looking for a place to run to."

"Charles Carmichael, I wouldn't be looking for an exit. I'd be looking for a sufficiently flat place for us to…"

"Miller, will you quit sexually harassing poor Agent Carmichael?"

"Casey, I was just making sure we understood each other. Who's Blondie?" She scanned Sarah and decided she didn't like her. She wasn't high on CIA operatives. In her experience, they were selfish egotistical glory hounds who acted without thinking things through.

Walker stood beside Casey in the aisle and had heard what had been said between the two agents. She thought she'd recognized the woman's voice and she'd been right…Carina Miller, DEA and now NSA. She knew her from the Happy Hour sessions and that one interrogation that had forced her to face her demons.

"This is our new team member, Sarah Walker. Sarah, this is Carina Miller, ex-DEA and this character with the guilty look on his face is Charles Carmichael, intersect host and all around pain in my ass. Charles, meet the missus."

Sarah noted how Casey's tone of voice had lightened when he'd described Carmichael. They were apparently good friends as well as team mates. She also noticed the pained look in Carmichael's eyes when he said 'meet the missus'. It must not have been an amicable divorce.

"Hi. I'm looking forward to working with you. Agent Carmichael, I hope you're OK with this arranged marriage? I'll respect your personal space if you'll respect mine?" She tried for a light tone but wasn't sure how 'light' it had been. She didn't want anyone getting the idea that there was anything more to the 'missus' other than a mission job description.

"Look out, Charles, the ball and chain's here. I'll let you two get acquainted while I whip up your breakfast." She got up from her seat and went forward to the galley.

"Breakfast?" She raised one sculpted eyebrow.

"Still on L.A. time and Miller's taken it upon herself to beef up Charles since he's _still _about 30 pounds under his ideal weight."

"Casey, don't start on that. I run, do the gym, do the breathing exercises, exactly like I've been instructed. It won't happen overnight." His voice sent a shiver down her back. It sounded familiar but she couldn't place where she might know him from. There was a raspy undercurrent to his voice, like he had a cold or something.

Sarah looked at Casey, again with the one raised eyebrow. "I wasn't briefed on any physical problems, Major. Care to fill me in?"

"He got hurt. He's in the process of recovering full lung capacity and as I said, he's still underweight and being an ass about it. Typical Carmichael. He's healthy enough for missions as long as he doesn't have to run more than 3 miles flat out. Carina's making him protein shakes trying to bulk him up to where he was before."

"How did he get injured?" She was curious and she had an obligation to her 'husband' to know the full story.

"Need to know, Agent. Highly classified. No offense but it's how it is."

"I see. Well, that's how it has to be."

_'Jesus, you can feel the anger coming off her in waves! Poor Bartowski…shit…Carmichael. I need to watch my big mouth until I feel more comfortable around her. I sure as hell am not sharing 'Chuck & Jenny' with her anytime soon.'_

"_**He's**_ sitting right here, y'know? Jesus, Casey, I got screwed up lungs. I'm not deaf!"

Casey just smirked and returned to his seat while Sarah sat down beside Chuck and reintroduced herself, telling him her cover back story and looking at him expectantly.

_'What? He's not going to share? He's got to trust me if this is going to work. Living together will be tough enough without trust issues.'_

He looked into her eyes and decided that telling her the truth was not on his personal agenda, at least not in the foreseeable future. Maybe after they got back from this mission.

"I'm sure that's not the truth about Agent Sarah Walker but we all have our constraints, right? I'm 28, an engineer by training, I got messed up 8 months ago and I'm almost back to full efficiency. I'll try not to get in your way back in L.A. I own a condo in Venice and there are two bedrooms and you get the big one. I don't cook but do have an extensive file of local take out menus."

He smiled when he told her about the condo bedrooms and actually grinned when he talked about the cooking situation.

She looked down at her hands for a moment and then got control of her emotions. She wouldn't be expected to share a bed and she had dreaded that possibility. He had a wonderful smile that made his face come alive. He'd never be considered handsome but he wasn't ugly, either. She could live with the situation.

"I don't cook either, Charles. Two bedrooms are ideal and I appreciate your candor and consideration. I wasn't looking forward to sharing a bed with a complete stranger…I mean…oh, shit. I guess I have unresolved 'issues', too."

He looked out the window for a few seconds and then turned to her and fixed her with his stare, his voice was cold and unfeeling.

"My 'issues' have been terminally resolved, Agent Walker. I hope we can be friends as well as colleagues. It will make living together easy on both of us. I won't enter your room under any circumstances without knocking and receiving permission. I expect the same courtesy. I don't date so the 'issue' of any overnight guest is moot. What you choose to do with your off hours is your business. And to answer the obvious question, I'm not gay. Just not interested."

Carina chose that moment to appear, 'protein shake' in hand and a smile on her face. Sarah remembered seeing _that_ smile only one time: when she'd met Chuck in the Tryst to go to the Planetarium. She felt a moment of irritation that she recognized was jealousy and tamped it down. It was none of her business.

"Chuck, hold your nose and drink it down. I don't know why you find my concoction so disgusting. I make one for Casey every morning and he hasn't bitched at all. You know it's good for you. You need more muscle mass and since the accident…"

"Carina! Give me the damned witches' brew and be gone! I know I need more muscle mass and I know I need to get my lung capacity back up where it belongs but for Christ's sake, Carina, give me the glass and save the lecture! Casey probably thinks grubs and maggots are a delicious snack and the occasional roach is a treat. I prefer Thai or Indian but would really love some Chinese! Go away. I promise not to hurl this time."

Sarah realized that this was no easy banter between 'nagger' and 'naggee'. He was serious and seemed exasperated with her mothering. What was that about an 'accident'?

They flew into Ramstein AFB in Germany and then the team split into the partners, each with a different route and objective. Casey and Carina were going directly to Cyprus where the meeting was scheduled to be held later in the week and would set up a base of operations while Sarah and Carmichael would take the more leisurely route through Italy by train and then by cruise ship to Cyprus. It would serve as a 'period of familiarization'.

* * *

Hotel Famagusta  
Nocosia, Cypress

Carina Miller had two weaknesses: men and sunbathing. Casey had changed into slacks and a shirt and gone around the immediate area of the designated meeting place and had mapped out all the intersecting streets as well as determined the best ways into and out of the small restaurant where the meeting would take place.

Carina lounged on the balcony, occasionally rolling over onto her back to ensure an even broil. Her basic monkey brain had given sway to her even more primitive reptile node that was enjoying the heat and sun. She frowned when her cell chirped.

"Miller, secure."

"Walker, secure. We're in Taranto and Charles is booking us out on a cruise ship for Cyprus. We'll arrive in 2 days at Nicosia. He's asked me to tell you that he has gained two pounds and has decided to forego anymore of your morning 'shakes'. Actually, he's been eating everything in sight. I think our genius has a new appreciation for Italian cuisine."

"How's he sleeping, Sarah? He has some of the most violent dreams. I think they're flashbacks to the accident and maybe one of the missions that went wrong."

"Like a baby. Probably from all the vodka he drinks."

"Sarah, Charles doesn't drink. Not a drop in all the time I've known him. He has an aversion that's almost ingrained. He does not drink."

"Well, he took out a bottle of Stoly from the duty free shop and it's gone. That's the second one since we left Berlin. He slept on the train and I didn't notice if he dreamed. Carina, what accident?"

"There was an ambush. He was the target. His wife was collateral damage."

There was a long pause and Carina thought they'd lost the signal.

"I see. That explains the long silences and why he prefers not to drive. So it wasn't a divorce like I thought. He never…"

"Sarah, for the sake of the mission and your partnership, don't ask or press him for details. He just won't talk about it and goes into one of his world famous funks. Let him tell you in his own time and in his own way, please?"

"You like him, don't you, Carina? Am I keeping you two apart?"

"No! He's not even near ready to consider picking up things where we left off. He's in mourning, Sarah, and he won't be coming around any time soon. He loved his wife and I figure it was mutual. Just don't mention it and if he wants to bring it up, fine. Otherwise, let it alone."

"I respect his privacy and I understand how he feels. Thanks for the heads up, Carina. But if things get better between you, let me know so I can spend time any place else." The last was said with a half-laugh in her voice.

"We'll see you in 2 days. The meeting's this weekend and Casey's already checked out the meet site and probably has audio and video set up. He's such a guy about his gadgets."

"So, how are you filling your time, Carina, since Charles isn't there to harass?" She decided she needed at least one person she could talk to and Carina was it. She hadn't had more than 3 conversations with her partner and he had kept those purely professional.

"Broiling in the sun, enjoying some absolutely fabulous weather and wearing absolutely nothing but what Mother Nature provided. We have a wonderful room with a huge private balcony and I just couldn't resist."

"No tan lines? I burn too easily. Well, I imagine you need to roll over. Remember sunscreen and we'll see you at the dock." She thought back to a better time when she had been so happy. They'd been on his boat on the way to Santa Catalina Island and it was one of the best memories of her life. She ended up with a bit of a tan – but no tan lines!

She rubbed a hand across her face, wishing…_'might as well wish for the moon. Those times were so precious and we always thought we'd have tomorrow…'_

* * *

Chuck walked back to the hotel, enjoying being alone and without purpose for a few hours. The 'alone' part was his new 'normal' but not having a purpose was new and relaxing. His thoughts turned to his new partner. She was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen but she seemed so…plastic.

'_I guess the CIA specializes in specific types. Beautiful and unfeeling and guarded. I wonder how she's going to adapt to living with me in L.A.? I plan on spending as much time as possible outside of the condo for the first few weeks until she feels more comfortable. I'll work on my tan, do a little surfing, maybe check in with the research team and see how things are…nope, that's a no-starter. I'm dead. Shit.'_

He walked past an open-air restaurant and decided to take his new partner to dinner. He was hungry and he figured she might be also. Maybe they could talk about 'things' without straying into personal minefields?

Sarah was fresh from the shower and standing in front of the sink staring at herself. Sometimes she startled herself when she saw her reflection. She was a stranger in her new skin. She watched as droplets of water ran down her arms and chest.

'_If Chuck was still alive and I ran into him, he wouldn't recognize me. I don't sound like Jenny Bartowski and I sure as hell don't look like her. Would he 'see' me or just let his gaze pass over me and walk on? If he knew his Jenny was in Sarah's 'skin' would he still love me?'_

She picked up the key hanging between her breasts and kissed it.

'_I'll always love you, Chuck, no matter who I look like. I'm Jenny Bartowski and it's who I'll always be, no matter what color my hair is and no matter how I look. I'll always be your Jenny just like you'll always be my Chuck.'_

* * *

Chuck swiped his card and walked into the suite of rooms. His stomach growled and he chuckled.

"Sarah, would you like to go to dinner? I found a nice café just down the street and we could 'dine al fresco'. Are you hungry?" He spoke in a normal tone and when he got no response he called out to her again and this time she answered.

"I'm in here, Charles. I'll just be a moment. Dinner sounds nice. I'm really hungry."

Chuck walked into the bedroom and saw her in profile standing at the sink. Naked. He turned abruptly and plowed into the half-closed door.

"Aw, shit!" He grabbed his nose and leaned his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. They'd done work on it and supposedly one of the benefits was a 'reduction in the surface capillaries' and less of a propensity to bleed like a stuck pig.

Sarah heard him yelp and swear and turned and saw him with his back to her, head back, squeezing his nose between his fingers. For just a second she was in L.A. in their condo the first time…

"Ha! They were right. Good. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…I didn't know you were…sorry. I'll wait in the living room. Sorry, Agent Walker."

Sarah grabbed her robe and slipped into it. She wanted to make sure he was all right. Nudity didn't bother her anymore. Apparently he was bothered and for some reason she found that charming. He stumbled and stammered just like…

"Charles, let me see what you've done to yourself. I'm so used to living alone that I forgot I had a government-issued husband." She tried to make light of it but she had a feeling it would be another thing they didn't talk about.

'_This is ridiculous. We're adults. We've both been married. We know what naked bodies look like. I wonder what his looks like.' _She was horrified at the thought and he picked that moment to turn around and he saw the look on her face and took it wrong.

"I said I was sorry, Agent Walker. Perhaps we should just order in and…"

"No, Charles. We're going out. I've never been to Italy and I want to see something other than the streets from cabs and hotel lobbies and hotel suites. Please?"

"If you're sure. It's a warm evening and we can walk. And maybe talk. I suppose we need to find out each others 'no fly' zones if this is going to work for us. I want it to work. I need a friend, Sarah. Not a lover or a fuck-buddy, just a friend."

"I'd like that. I don't have any friends, Charles, and I'd like this partnership to work out, too. I'll change and we can be on our way."

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair with little conversation, not at all like either of them had planned but whatever happened in the suite had cast a pall over the pair. Sarah was determined to break through and open up the lines of communication between them.

"Charles seems so formal and impersonal. Do you have a preferred nickname like Charlie or Chuck or…"

"Charles. It's what I prefer."

"But Casey and Carina both call you 'Chuck'?"

"It's a habit with Casey. Miller just does it to piss me off I think. You can call me whatever you want although, as I've said, I prefer 'Charles'."

"Then, Charles, since I don't have the 'habit' and I don't want to piss you off, I'll stick with 'Charles'."

They spent the rest of their dinner talking about nothing special and both felt more at ease with one another. They window shopped on the walk back to their hotel, each commenting on how exotic some things were while how other things seemed common place.

Sarah took possession of the bathroom for a soak and to 'do my hair' and Chuck took the opportunity to get sit on the balcony and kill the remainder of his bottle of vodka. He must have dozed off.

The dream started pleasantly enough. Jenny sat in the SUV prattling on about what she'd done and the new techniques she'd learned about while Chuck just drove north towards home and dinner. His last image was of Sarah Walker screaming his name and then there was nothing but pain and darkness.

"Charles, wake up. The bathroom's all yours. I'm going to bed. We need to be at the docks by 10AM."

He staggered into the shower, still shook up from the dream and wondering what the hell it all meant. He knew enough about dreams to know that his mind was telling him something that his brain couldn't recognize yet.

He toweled off, pulled on a t-shirt and sleep pants and crawled into bed, sleeping as far away from his 'wife' as could without falling off the bed. She'd taken the same approach to the 'sleeping together' problem.

Sarah awoke, smiled, and snuggled back down into the warmth and comfort of the arms surrounding her. She hadn't dreamed at all and she felt secure and refreshed and ready for the day. Her hand had strayed up under his t-shirt and she was threading her fingers through the hair on his chest. He smelled…

She sat up abruptly and took stock of the situation. She'd been wrapped in Carmichael's arms, her head on his chest. He was still asleep, a peaceful look on his face for once. The bastard had taken advantage of her!

"Wake up, Carmichael! Damn you. I told you sleeping in the same bed was going to be hard for me but you didn't care about that. No! You figured to just ease your way over and spend the night copping feels or something equally…"

He sat up, his eyes still bleary from the abrupt transition from a wonderful dream to this…shrill and loud harpy who was going on about him…_copping feels?_

Chuck looked around, gained his bearings and then calmly twisted around and planted his feet on the floor and stood up.

"Take a good look at where you spent the night, _Agent _Walker. Be sure and note whose side of the bed you're on and for the love of God, dial it down a notch or two. I'll be right back."

He went into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

'_Oh, shit! If I was any further on his side we'd both have been on the floor. Crap! I moved, not him. I wrapped my arms and legs around him. I had my head on his shoulder and my hand under…'_

She hopped out of the bed and walked to the door and knocked.

"Chuck, I'm sorry. I – I was surprised when I woke up. I'm sorry I screeched at you and said those terrible things to you when I was the guilty party. Please, don't be angry. I'm just…I'm just having a hard time adjusting to being…I'm sorry. I'm going to get dressed and go for a walk."

The door opened and Chuck walked out past her and she could tell he was pissed. He'd looked so peaceful asleep and she'd been so wrong about the situation.

"We don't have time for this, Agent Walker. It's 7:15 and we need to be at the docks in 2 hours. Shower, pack up your shit and let's check out and get moving. Since we're using our own passports until Cyprus, I took the liberty of booking us two adjoining cabins. I don't know what we'll do about the hotel in Nicosia, but I can guarantee you there won't be a repeat of last evening."


	14. Chapter 14

NIk's Notes: I've been waiting all damned day in this refrigerator of a house waiting for the airline to confirm our flights and I decided to post a couple chapters but FF won't let me do it as a new update so here I am waiting for '60' to be '59' waiting waiting waiting waiting... so you have to wait. Ain't technology a beeawch?

* * *

They hardly spoke until they boarded the cruise liner in the harbor at Taranto. The steward showed them to their outboard cabins and left the feuding couple to their own devices simply reminding them that dinner was 'formal'.

Chuck was unpacking his bag when Sarah knocked at the adjoining doorway. He debated ignoring it because he didn't want another round of '_It was my fault and I'm so sorry_' from her but took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Yes, Sarah?"

"Look, we have to work together and what happened last night…" She stopped and walked into his cabin. It was smaller than hers and she wondered if he always took the lesser quarters. She sat on the bunk and looked at him for about 5 seconds before continuing.

'_I knew she couldn't let it go. Yeah, we do have to work together but when this mission's done, she's gone.'_

"My husband…I…it's not even a year and I've had 'co-ed' missions but I've never woken up in such a compromising position before and…I felt guilty, OK? I felt guilty because it felt so damned _right_. I hardly slept a full night without nightmares until last night. You must think I'm a horrible person but…" Each sentence became a little louder as the desperation in her comments increased.

He put his fingertips against her lips in an effort to stop her spiel.

"Shh. No, I don't think you're a horrible person. I think you're aching and grieving and there's no one who can ever take the place of who you lost. I know that's how I feel almost all the time except on missions and…look, I felt rested and at peace when I first woke up and I didn't have my usual nightmares so, thank you for last night. I'm sorry I took your head off…Peace?"

"Yeah. Peace. If you ever want to just talk or…"

"Yeah. Let's go grab some lunch and then talk about the cover and op in Nicosia. I requested an augment and hopefully she'll be there before we have the meeting."

"An augment? What the hell is an 'augment'."

"Well, when they were remaking my face, she did a lot of modeling using what little remained for her to work with. I'm hoping she can help me change my appearance enough to fool the buyers. She used to be a special effects makeup artist in Hollywood. You'll love her. She was my rock during the operations and she kept me from giving up and just dying."

"So, Chuck, this face isn't really yours? The obvious question in my mind is 'how big a change did they make'?"

"Well, I used to have blue eyes, my nose was a lot smaller and I guess my cheekbones and chin are a lot different. Oh, and they fixed my ears. One was always an inch or so lower then the other. The right one, I think."

Sarah took that in but stopped. Plastic surgery didn't change eye color. Did it?

"Hey, Carmichael, that's a bunch of crap. You can't change your eye color with plastic surgery. And you nose is pretty big now. Who makes their nose _'bigger'_? I call bullshit!"

For just an instant he flashed on Jenny. She called 'bullshit' a lot and he was sorry they ever saw that damned movie about the family playing cards. It was a damned chick flick and he'd fallen asleep a few times. Jenny had loved going to the movies.

"Ok, I lied about the eye color and the ears but the rest, sadly, is true. However, people come up to me on the street now and tell me how classically handsome I am. Happens all the time."

He grinned and she wasn't sure what to make of it. He wasn't at all what one would refer to as 'handsome' let alone 'classically'. He wasn't ugly, just not her type. He wasn't _her_ Chuck. He'd been someone else's.

"I'm hungry, partner. Feed me. I'll be counting your calories so you better eat a lot or else it's Miller's protein shakes for breakfast _and _lunch.

"I hope there's Italian food on the menu."

"It's an Italian cruise ship, Chuck. I don't think you'll be disappointed."

* * *

They never got to eat lunch. Chuck received a cell call from Casey telling him that the British MI-6 were 'cutting them out' and that they would essentially be backup to the Brits. Chuck was amazed at the fluency Casey displayed in scatological curses in more languages than Chuck believed existed.

"Charles, we're the second string and Beckman agreed in exchange for some data she felt was more critical than us taking out the nuke seller. We'll meet in Nicosia as planned and then sit back and wait. Your lady friend arrived earlier today and I gotta say you sure can pick 'em."

"What? You don't like Helen? I'll admit she's a bit unorthodox but…"

"She thinks she's a fucking vampire, and she dresses like…"

"She's a Goth, Casey. She doesn't really think she's a vampire. It's all Hollywood with her. Be nice to her. I owe her for my dashing good looks."

Casey sputtered and cursed and finally handed the phone to Carina. "Here, you talk to the moron."

"Chuck, Casey's kinda upset. So, how are you and the missus getting along? Are you eating?"

"Fine, yes, eating. We were about to go into lunch when Casey called. I'm hanging up now, Carina. Don't let Helen out in the light. Her skin bubbles and stinks like road kill."

Sarah had been standing beside Chuck at the rail and could hear Casey despite the two feet separating her from Chuck. She laughed at Chuck's final words to Miller.

"Goth? Vampires? What kind of team is this? My God, Charles…her skin bubbles in the sun?"

"Not really but Carina has a fear of the supernatural. Remember that. It might come in handy if there's ever a war between the partners."

* * *

Dinner was formal and so Chuck unpacked the tux from the wardrobe and had it pressed by the steward. He knocked on the connecting door and asked if she was ready to go and heard a muted "I could use a little help here, Charles. Please come in."

Her zipper was stuck and from the location of the stoppage Chuck had an unfettered view of the ivory skin that went from the base of her spine to her shoulders. He tugged the zipper up to its stop and patted it.

"OK, you're done up, Sarah. Nice dress. The color…" The color matched her eyes. He realized that their eyes, Jenny's and Sarah's, were the exact same color and he wondered if that had anything to do with his guarded attitude towards his new partner.

"You look nice, Sarah. Are you ready to go?"

"Yep, just let me get my purse and pistol and we're good to go."

"Pistol? Um, maybe I should go back and put on a rig and take mine. Are you expecting trouble?"

"Nope. But I believe in always being prepared."

"Ah, so you were a boy scout?"

"Do I _look_ like a boy, Charles?" Her tone was somewhat frosty. She'd spent a great deal of time ensuring she looked her best for him. She didn't want to create a bad first impression in a formal setting.

"N – no…absolutely not. There's no way anyone could mistake you for anything other than the female of the species. Um, let's go before I end up swallowing the foot I've shoved into my mouth."

She grabbed her wrap and patted Chuck on the cheek as she passed him. "You're sweet. I like that in a man."

"Just what every guy wants to hear from a beautiful woman…'you're sweet'. The kiss of death."

She laughed and grabbed his hand and pulled him out into the companionway. She liked this guy. He was funny, unassuming and not the least bit threatening. The partnership had potential.

* * *

Dinner was superb and they stayed long after the table had been cleared talking about everything and anything other than each other and their respective deceased spouses.

She put her arm through his as they walked back to their cabins and said their good nights in the companionway. Chuck stripped off his tux, cleared his pistol and put it under his pillow. Despite what he'd told Sarah, he'd been armed.

He lounged in front of the cabin window and finished off the rest of the bottle of Vodka he'd picked up prior to boarding. He was working on building up a tolerance for vodka since his mark was a well-known drinker in public and, it was assumed, private.

After a quick shower he slipped into his bed and then mentally reviewed the mission profile, flashing on all the known participants.

'Why would Beckman take second chair to the Brits? What information could possibly be more important than eliminating a nuclear weapons dealer and his buyers? No good can come of this. The Brits have a notorious reputation for putting their own interests first instead of honoring agreements.'

He flashed on their mark.

_'Pavel Andreyevev Roskov, 53, former colonel of the Minsk Strategic Rocket Artillery Division, single, no known sexual deviations. Former member of Russian Nationalist Movement, devoted to restoring the old Soviet Union to its former glories without dependence on Marxist doctrine. Resigned from Federation military service in protest over the adoption of the SALT II Treaty. Appointed Strategic Armaments commander of the Georgian Republic National Army, 2006. Saw service in Afghanistan during his first years in Soviet Army._

The file photo available in the intersect database was at least 5 years old. Five years ago Roskov was thin, graying hair, a nasty scar running across his lower jaw and dark brown eyes slightly sunken into his face. He was clean shaven but recent reports said he'd adopted a Stalin-type moustache. Figures, the Man of Steel was a Georgian himself.

Chuck didn't know how long he'd been asleep when Sarah knocked on the interconnecting door and asked if she could talk with him.

"It's open, Sarah. Come in." He sat up, conscious of his sleep attire – sleep pants and a wife-beater t-shirt, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

She'd been crying and started to speak a couple of times before she managed to say a complete sentence.

"Charles, can I please sleep in here tonight? I just…a horrible nightmare and…"

He knew what she wanted. She wanted someone to hold on to her and give her human contact, nothing more. He understood the need all too well. The first few months after Jenny's death had been hard for him but Helen had been there and understood the need to reconnect and hold off the demons.

"Sure. The bed's not as big as yours so…" he moved over until his back was almost against the bulkhead and gestured to the warm empty space he'd just left. She never looked him in the eye, just slipped into bed and rolled over and put her head on his shoulder and pulled his arm around her. She was still crying and sniffling, still shaking off the nightmare.

"I'm sorry. You must think I'm weak and…"

"Hush. I don't think any such thing. I'd have cracked and given up if Helen hadn't been there after the accident. She was my anchor after the first operations and she let me lean on her when I couldn't stand on my own. After I was breathing on my own she became a permanent fixture in my room. She read Moby Dick to me. She called me her Ishmael."

"So, you and Helen…?" She was bothered by the implications. She didn't understand why but she was.

"Oh, God, no! Helen's loud and proud…calls herself 'the grand dyke'. She's the closest thing I've had to a friend since this crap got stuffed up my nose."

"Oh. Good. I mean…good that you have someone you can lean on. I'm your partner, Charles, and I hope someday you'll trust me enough to 'lean on me' if you need to. I've certainly taken advantage…"

"Sleep. Big day of doing nothing tomorrow until we dock in the afternoon. I need to find the ship's gym and get back on track. Can't let my manly physique deteriorate."

Sarah giggled abruptly, surprised at her suppressed laughter. She closed her eyes and slept.

She woke first to the sun in her face streaming in through the cabin window. She was spooned against his chest and crotch and his warm breath tickled her ear and sent shivers through her. Her head was on his bicep and he had his other arm draped loosely across her. She knew this was dangerous but last night she'd needed someone to help her keep the past at bay. She felt wonderful for the first time since…the last time she'd slept with him.

'_Face it, Sarah Walker, you needed _him._ How quickly you've forgotten the other Chuck. How quickly you've become Sarah Walker and left poor Jenny behind.'_

She gently untangled her self from her partner and returned to her own cabin. This would not happen again.

Chuck wondered if he'd done something 'inappropriate' last night. She hardly spoke during breakfast and disappeared when he went to the gym, reappearing with her luggage as the boat docked and the passengers began to leave the boat for other destinations or to spend the day touring and shopping.

"Ready to go, Sarah?"

"Ready, Agent Carmichael. Let's get this done."

Her tone was not quite cold but her body language almost shrieked 'don't touch me'. He must have done something the night before. He'd been asleep. She couldn't blame him for what happened while he was asleep, could she?

* * *

Cruise Line Docking Area  
Nicosia, Cypress

"Ishmael!" He'd just reached the bottom of the gangway and was looking around for his partners when he was enveloped in black leather and kissed as if it was the last thing she'd ever do on earth.

"Helen! Please, show a little restraint! I know you haven't seen me in a while but…you're not reorienting again, are you?" She'd decided that she was 'bisexual' as far as Chuck was concerned. She was determined to sleep with him, if only to confirm her 'orientation' or to disprove it. She had a thing for Chuck Carmichael, even before the reconstruction. She couldn't figure it out but figured 'fuck it, go with the flow'.

"Oh, Ish, I've missed you. Look at you! You've gained weight, your face is…um, healed, yeah, healed. So, now that all your excuses are gone, now will you sleep with me?"

She looked at her handiwork and admired the job she'd done. She'd started with basically raw flesh but had given the surgeons such detailed models that his surgery and recovery had been one for the books.

"Helen, you're out in the sun and you're not blistering and sizzling! I missed you, Hell, and no, I'm not going to sleep with you. I have the wrong equipment, remember?" His eyes glazed over for a brief second as he saw something that broke his heart.

"Ish, I've told you a thousand, no, I've told you a million times that, I will sacrifice and go 'hetero' for ya, baby. Just for you."

She looked up over his shoulder and saw a tall blonde staring at them with ill-concealed displeasure. She looked her over and decided '_I'd do her although blondes aren't my type'_ and then started to drag Chuck towards the line of taxis.

"Ish, let's table this until I get you back to your room and naked. We got an audience, baby, and I know how much of a prude you are."

"Ah, my manners! Helen Free, this is Sarah Walker, my new partner. Sarah, this is my rock, Helen the Dyke. She's the one who modeled the new Charles after…after I didn't die. Helen, she's a Clown so be nice. I don't think she approves of your lifestyle but don't let it bother you. We're only here for a few days."

"So Beckman outsourced for a new keeper? Radical. I knew Diane had a sense of humor. Brought in the Clowns. Hello, Ms. Walker, I'm Helen Free, makeup artist and forensic sculptress extraordinaire. Whatcha think of my guy here? Isn't Ishmael sweet?"

Sarah was startled from her daydream of skinning the short woman with razor blades for daring to kiss…

"Hi. I'm Sarah Walker. He needs to put on weight and maybe smile a bit more but I'd say you did a good job giving him a face with…character."

Helen was short, amply endowed (and displayed in an almost obscenely small sleeveless leather vest) shocking white spiked hair, facial piercings and black lipstick. She wore black leather pants that looked like a second skin. Sarah took an immediate dislike to her. She figured the feelings were mutual and she was right.

Helen leaned up and whispered something in his ear and laughed as he protested his innocence.

"No, we're partners, our cover is as a married couple but Hell I bought a condo in Venice right near the beach and it's got two bedrooms for a reason. I'm still married, Hell, even if she's dead. That 'til death do us part' still applies. I'm still alive."

Both women looked at each other and knew that each felt the same thing.

"Where are Casey and Miller? I thought they'd meet us and bring us up to speed." It wasn't like Casey to let a civilian, even one who worked part-time for the NSA, take on his duties.

"He and Her Bitchiness are scoping out secondary hide sites in case the Brits screw things up. Y'know John, always has to have 'in depth options'. Ish, I don't know how you can stand to be in the same room with that redheaded harpy. She nags John something fierce but she saves her most bitchiness for you, Agent Walker."

She looked over her shoulder at Sarah who was following behind the other two. She was busy shooting daggers into the back of the Vamp's neck.

"She hasn't said one nice thing about you and that makes you my bestest friend forever until we get off this rock. Chuck, all she does is go on and on and on and on about you and your health and well-being. I think she's carrying a big-assed flaming torch for you."

"There's no reason for her to be bad-mouthing Sarah except that she's jealous. You know how Carina is…possessive. As for her damned torch, I already told her it was a no-go from the start but she's worse than you are, Hell. She's determined to…never mind. Sarah and I are partners and we're good together, so back off, Helen."

"OK, backing off. So, Charles, to business. How's the implant working? Need a refill?" She slowed until she was abreast of Sarah and spoke very quietly to her. "How's he sleeping? Is he using the implant? They decided on an on-demand subdermal implant since pills are…inconvenient on missions."

"Implant? This is the first I've heard of an implant. What's it do? What's this about a refill? It's subdermal? Where is it?"

Chuck heard his partner's voice increasing in volume and listened and then smirked. _'Shut up and let her answer your damned questions. God, you're as bad as Jenny…was.'_

"It's on the underside of his upper left arm. It's supposed to allow self-medication for pain. All he has to do is stroke it with his thumb and it automatically doses him. I think that's pretty cool. If he uses it to the max it lasts about 30 days. Knowing Ish, he's probably got 29 days remaining. He's so stubborn about using it. He says the pain 'keeps him frosty'."

"Pain? From what? He looks healed. No facial scarring."

Chuck had walked away from the pair who'd stopped walking and were deep in conversation.

'_Damn Helen! Now I'll have to deal with Walker nagging me about using the injector just like Carina does about eating. I hate being nagged. My sister had been a nag and Jenny could make me feel guilty in a heartbeat so she never had to nag.'_

"He had a flailed chest, Agent Walker, and the muscles were severely damaged as well as some nerves and he has muscle pain in his chest, shoulders and legs. The legs were both broken and required pinning and now cramp up after he runs and I've seen the pinched look around his eyes – a sure sign he's in pain."

'_I've noticed the pinched look as the day went on. Maybe sleep relieves the pain.'_

"That's why I asked how he was sleeping. Between the nightmares and pain he rarely sleeps the entire night through. It's hampering his recovery. It's why he can't stand upright. He's 6'2" but I'll bet you never thought he was that tall, did you? I wish I'd known him before the assassination attempt. Then I could judge his progress."

"You really care about Charles, don't you? I mean, not like love or anything, but like you really care, don't you?"

"I – I think he's the only man I would ever consider having sex with. I don't know. He's so unassuming and…he's so damned _sweet_. I spent two months working on him, reworking his face from what it was to what you see now. I guess I fell a little bit in love with him. I took hamburger and molded it into what you see. Beckman wanted him to have a new face and a new chance at life. I helped him."

"I don't understand."

"I'm a forensic artist. I've worked on victim identification for various police agencies. Beckman contacted me with a challenge so I flew up to Utah and spent a week looking at x-rays and modeling a skull from them to work on."

"So you never saw him before…I mean you didn't know what he looked like before?"

"Not before I actually met him. His face was a mess and he couldn't speak at all, something about a damaged larynx. I spent another week back home doing the model and flew back up to Utah and met with the surgeons and Beckman. Scary lady. Anyhow, between surgeries I'd fly up and check on the progress against the model Beckman had approved. He needed a lot of bone work and appliances to fix him back up."

They noticed Charles was waiting for them impatiently at the taxi stand.

"So, how's he sleeping?"

"Fine the last couple of nights. We traveled down through Italy by train and I didn't see much of him but I did notice that 'pinched' look you mentioned but not the last two or three mornings." _I wonder if that's because I spent the night wrapped around him? No. It couldn't be anything that simple._

"Good. Maybe he's using the damned injector. I'll have to check on it. I was kidding about the refill. It has to be done surgically."

Chuck looked pointedly at his watch and motioned for them to 'hurry it up'. He wanted to find someplace to sit down. His legs were killing him. He wouldn't use the damned injector. It made the world fuzzy and it was probably addictive. He could live with the pain if he could sit down occasionally.

Besides, pain reminded him of his purpose and of what he'd lost. If he'd ever stopped to think about it, using pain to remind you of what you'd lost was dumb – unless you thought you needed the pain as punishment. He never stopped to think about it, simply rationalizing it away as a fear of dependence.


	15. Chapter 15

Nik's Notes: I should have split this into 2 but I have time constraints. I'm leaving on the 19th.

* * *

Hotel Famagusta  
Nicosia, Cypress

The four spies and their 'augment' sat at a table in the hotel bar and discussed their various viewpoints of the situation in muted voices. Chuck was on his third 'vodka, neat' and the others were watching him warily but without comment. His aversion to alcohol seemed to have disappeared although his tolerance was still lower than he'd like.

"So, Charles, what's your take on the change of mission?"

Carina sat across from him at the small table while Helen and Sarah flanked him on the other side like bodyguards – something neither would have disagreed with. Carina was sending signals to Chuck that were undeniable. Only Casey and Chuck seemed to ignore them or not recognize them for what they were. No surprise there. Men were so…dense sometimes, most times.

"I don't know what to think of it. The General's not one to miss the opportunity to pick up a couple of nukes for 'study' or to forego eliminating potential terrorist threats. Whatever carrot they dangled must have been very attractive to her."

Carina's eyes narrowed and she slipped off one of her high heels and placed the ball of her foot squarely in Chuck's crotch and began making slow circles. The idea of arousing him while he was sitting with his partner and the Creature from Hell turned her on. She pressed against him and smiled at the evidence of the effect her ministrations were having. Her massage was awakening the sleeping python as she'd often fantasized.

Helen saw the smile and instantly knew what was happening. She innocently laid her hand on Chuck's bare forearm and felt his pulse racing. She glanced up at his face and saw that he was far from enjoying Her Bitchiness' attentions. His face had that pinched look she knew so well.

She pushed herself back in her chair and glanced down and saw Carina's foot in Chuck's crotch and her mood darkened and she started to react when Chuck suddenly reached down and grabbed her ankle and pulled her foot out from between his legs and pushed it down towards the floor. No one else seemed to notice but she did and she smiled. _'Good boy. Save yourself for me.'_

Sarah _had_ noticed and was going to do much the same thing although her grip would have included sinking her nails into the bitch's leg to the quick. She glanced at Carina and saw her smirk.

_'One day I'm going to wipe that smirk off her face – and probably knock out quite a few teeth when I do. He's not meat.'_

Chuck stood up and glared at Carina and then grabbed Helen by the hand and looked at her with ill-concealed lust and said "You want me, you got me. We'll use your room."

He never looked back at the three shocked agents. Casey was really upset with his partner and from the look on Walker's face, Carina might just have moments to live.

Carina was shocked for other reasons. She'd been toying with him, yes, but hoped that he'd finally get the message and it would be her being dragged to the elevator. She'd only done what he'd asked her to do.

'I can't believe what that slut Miller…he's going to…relieve his tensions with a dyke! My God, these people are depraved.' Sarah's impression of the NSA team and her partner went from incredible to disgusting. These people might accomplish incredible feats but their lifestyles were…disgusting.

Chuck pinned his friend to the wall of the elevator almost overcome with lust. He kissed her hungrily and lifted the much shorter woman up and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him and ground her crotch against his, moaning into his mouth. She'd never been with a man and if Charles was typical of what she'd been missing…

The elevator got to her floor and he broke off kissing her and mumbled "Helen, where's your room?"

She led him by the hand, almost running down the carpeted corridor to her room. She fumbled with the key and he jerked it out of her hand and unlocked her room and then dragged her in and slammed the unlocked door behind him.

Helen was fumbling with the laces on her vest when Chuck pulled out a belt knife and cut through them, freeing her breasts and causing Helen to give a little scream. He motioned to her tight leather pants and told her hoarsely to 'get them off' and he turned and began undressing, pressing the button on his watch.

He had his shirt unbuttoned and turned and she gasped at the look on his face and the pistol in his hand.

"Ish? Baby? What the fuck…?"

* * *

The three spies were still sitting at the table when Casey's watch bleeped 3 times rapidly. "C'mon, that's the distress signal from Chuck's watch. Something's happened. Walker, you're with me. Carina, you'll remain in the corridor after we breech the door. Carina, if anyone but Walker or I leave that room, shoot them."

Carina ran up the stairs to the 4th floor while Casey and Walker took the elevator. Carina cautiously opened the fire door and saw that the corridor was empty and walked down to the elevator doors to wait on the rest of the team.

When Casey and Walker got out of the elevator, she reached in and pressed the 'stop' button. They didn't know the situation and didn't want any unwanted civilians mucking things up.

Casey pressed his ear to the door and motioned Walker to the other side and shook his head. He couldn't hear anything. He grasped the doorknob and it turned easily. He started opening the door when he heard Carmichael say "It's open, Casey. C'mon in and join the party."

Sarah and Casey entered the room and Sarah cleared it, checking the balcony and the bathroom. "Clear, Casey. I think Carina should be here. No sense advertising our presence." Casey stuck his head out of the door and motioned Carina inside.

"OK, Carmichael, what's going on? The Goth prove too touch to handle alone? Need an assist?" He was deliberately sarcastic, hoping to prompt an explanation instead of waiting for Carmichael to make up his mind as to saying anything. He'd been in this situation too many times before lately.

"Carina, you enjoyed that entirely too much but it worked out just fine. Sorry, Agent Walker, if I gave you the impression I was some kind of sex fiend. I had to know for sure and now I do."

"What? That Free's not hetero, Chuck? I could have told you that," Casey snarked.

"Helen, put your hands behind your head, interlacing the fingers and push your elbows back." She did as he ordered, trembling slightly. She wasn't embarrassed at being naked, just afraid. This wasn't the Ishmael she knew. This man was a terrifying stranger to her.

Chuck stood, still holding the pistol aimed at her face, and walked over and pointed to the tattooed 'circle' on the underside of her upper arm near the arm pit.

"Remember this from the Hounds, Casey? The mark of the Ring, John. That's what they call themselves. They're the international 'parent' of Fulcrum in a sense. She's one of them. They picked her up and worked on her and turned her after she did a few deals with the Agency. Moab's compromised but I'm still pure as the driven snow, isn't that right, Helen?"

"Yeah. They don't know anything about you. I didn't have any instructions regarding individual patients, just the layout and schematic of the Moab facility. They were interested in the holding and detention areas. They're planning on rescuing their agents."

"Go on, Helen. Tell them the rest." Chuck's voice was cold and his body language scream 'stress' and Sarah could see the barrel of his pistol waiver with each heartbeat.

"When you called, I reported in to my control. I was ordered to meet up with you, do what you required but delay what I could. Our agents have taken out the Jihad representatives and will meet with the General and take possession of the tactical nukes. You three will be dead well before the meeting."

"Three?" Carina could count.

"Yeah, Ishmael was to be taken prisoner if possible. Someone is interested in him. Someone high up. I don't know who. I was to drug him and have him picked up whenever it was convenient. This was a golden opportunity except somehow he made me."

"At the docks. You should have worn long sleeves, Helen. You should have done a lot of things. Casey, this changes everything. We'll snatch the General and eliminate the Ring agents. Call Beckman about Moab being compromised. Tell her about the change in plans."

"Y'know Chuck, you didn't have to go through all that drama to get to where we are now. Why do it?" Carina was curious and also angry that she'd followed his instructions without understanding why. It seemed so…unnecessary.

"How else would she believe that I'd suddenly given up and wanted to have sex with her? I needed her primed and I wasn't sure we weren't all under surveillance. It had to look, I don't know, spontaneous, I guess."

"Helen, if you want to avoid the damned needle or worse, you'll work your magic and turn me into General Pavel Roskov. Otherwise, Casey will kill you. Understand?"

"Ish…please…"

Chuck backhanded her across the face knocking her down onto the bed. "The only reason you're still alive is that I owe you for keeping me alive in Moab. The only reason, Helen. Carina, would you please get her dressed and then we'll meet in your suite and run through the plan? We'll have to figure out what to do with her until we need her."

Carina reached into her purse and pulled out a trank dark and slapped her in the neck. Helen sighed and went to sleep.

Casey glared at his partner and muttered, "Well, I guess we'll meet here since someone can't seem to follow orders any better than the Cardinal. I'll contact the General. Carina, you and Sarah get her dressed in something quick and comfortable and secure her. Chuck, you all right?"

"No. Yeah. I don't know. She was…I'm going for a run. You guys can handle this. You're the damned professionals." He left the room and agents behind. If only he could just disappear.

"Sarah, you better go with him. He trusted her. She was his friend, his 'rock' during the reconstruction. He's rattled and there's no telling what he's thinking right now." She nodded, looked at the sleeping Helen and wondered how anyone could say she loved a man and then turn a blind eye towards the fate she'd arranged for him.

Casey was bothered by the whole situation. Chuck used to talk to him but not any more. Since the accident he was closed off, distant. The fact that he'd used Carina without telling him the plan made him wonder if somehow Carmichael had lost trust and faith in him.

* * *

She entered their suite and called out his name. She hoped he hadn't gone off without her. It wasn't safe for any of them to be alone. "Chuck, are you still here?"

"Yeah, I'll be out of your way in just a few seconds, Sarah."

"Well, hold on. I'm going with you. I could use the exercise and Casey doesn't want any of us to be on our own given what your…what Helen told us. I'm glad you caught her in her lies, Chuck. A real friend wouldn't have turned on you like she did."

"Look, I don't need a sitter but I'd like a companion for the run. I'm not that fast anymore. Lungs are weak and I hate that. If we get back to L.A. I'm going to get on the beach more, push farther and harder. Get back into sparring."

"Let me change and we'll hit the beach. We'll keep talking. No one to over hear us. It's good for the cover. I used to run with…my husband. We used to have the most interesting conversations and we also used the time, sometimes, not often, to settle our spats."

"It's hard to argue when you can't breathe. We'll go out the back entrance, walk around the building and hit the beach from the other side. Don't expect sand, Sarah. Mediterranean beaches are different, especially this far east." He grabbed his cell phone, a couple of bottles of water and two towels and shoved them into a backpack. He also put his pistol and silencer on top next to his cell phone.

"Ready, Charles?" She noticed what he'd put in the backpack and nodded in approval. His cage might be rattled but his head's in the game. I wouldn't have thought to bring my pistol. No place to put it. She laughed quietly at her comments.

"Something funny, Sarah?" He'd heard her giggle. Am I that out of shape?

"No. I just wondered where I was going to put my pistol. Can you add it to your pack?"

He glanced at her and whistled. "Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem for ya!" She was wearing spandex shorts and a sports bra and running shoes.

_My God, her legs go all the way to her…_

_Well, finally! A male reaction. Other than when he commented on my blue dress, that's the first time he acknowledged I was a girl. Progress._

They walked down the sidewalk to the beach and to the casual observer they were just two vacationers enjoying the sun and each other. They both wore sunglasses and Sarah was holding his hand as they chatted. The 'casual observer' would have laughed at their conversation.

"Do you think we're being watched, Chuck?"

"Can't tell. Well, you're being watched. I don't think I am."

"What? Who? I didn't see anyone?" She casually did a 360 pretending to look at the scenery.

"Only every male between 12 and 90 with a pulse. You look incredible, like one of those Euro models walking with their pet leopard on a leash."

"I thought you were Cardinal?"

"Smart ass!"

They ran around the harbor on the path constructed for strollers and joggers. He was sweating and wheezing after the first mile and she'd slowed her pace a little until she could gauge his stamina. She pulled up at a bench and pretended to retie one of her shoes. He plopped down and started flagging his t-shirt to cool off his body.

"Drink some water, Chuck, and stand up and walk around otherwise you'll stiffen up. That was a good first half. We'll slow down a bit on the way back. It's been a while since I ran that fast. The beach in L.A. sounds like it will get a lot of use. Is it hard running in loose sand?"

She definitely wanted to slow down the pace. They'd started off at a sprinter's pace and hadn't let up until he started having difficulties. If he ran two miles at that pace his lungs must be pretty damned good!

"I run in the early morning and late evening when the tides have ebbed and the sand is wet and packed. Running in dry and loose sand is a killer."

She set the pace on the way back and Chuck was doing fine but suddenly pulled up when he heard his cell phone ringing.

"Carmichael, secure but in public." Unconsciously he'd used the proper procedure.

"Casey, secure and amazed you remembered you training, moron! Beckman's losing her mind and wants you and Walker back in the U.S. on the next commercial flight. The mission is scrapped. Miller and I are to 'escort' Free to a detention facility and rejoin you in L.A. Your flight leaves in a couple of hours. Moab's on lockdown and preparing to relocate."

"What about the two presents? And the Brits?"

"The Brits are…out of the game. Your freak's friends saw to that. Miller's having a melt down seeing Ring agents at every turn. We're too far out of position to do anything about the two 'presents'. It's a European problem now. Get back here and head out to the airport."

Casey disconnected and went to help Miller manhandle an unconscious Free into the bathtub. It would look like she'd OD'd and drowned. Beckman was adamant about it: Carmichael was never to know.

* * *

Chuck and Sarah flew coach to Athens and then to Rome where they reported in to the embassy and were put on a courier flight to DC. Twenty-four hours later they were in L.A.'s airport and waiting for their luggage.

"Are all your missions like this, Charles? Run from the top and with all those last minute decisions and changes?" Their flight had been long and except for the overnight in Rome – with separate hotel rooms in separate hotels for security purposes – they'd had little sleep and Sarah was feeling cranky and jet-lagged.

"No. This one was…screwed up bad. If I didn't know better I'd think Beckman panicked and pulled us out rather than risk the team. That's not like her at all. We'll swing by the Castle and check in with her and see what orders she has. It'll be interesting to see if she bothers to tell me about Helen."

"What about Helen? She's on her way to detention."

"Jesus, Walker, wake up! I'm sure she was dead before we got on the plane in Cyprus. I'm surprised Beckman didn't have me picked up en route and diverted to Atlanta or someplace equally secure. The Ring knows about the intersect and has made some connection that tells them I'm it. I don't think you'll be my partner long, Sarah. I'll 'disappear' like Free and you'll go back to working out of Langley. It's her style."

They were waiting at the shuttle station for the Hertz shuttle when Carina drove up in Chuck's Land Rover and blew the horn and waved at them.

"See, Sarah? They beat us back even after a 'detour' to drop Free off in detention. Yeah, right. Look, I like you and I don't want you hurt. If they make a move, stand aside. It'll be all right, Sarah. They probably won't kill me, just drop me in the newer version of Moab."

She grabbed his free hand like it was a lifeline.

"No way, Charles. You're my partner and Beckman's orders were to stay with you through thick and thin. She wouldn't have given me those orders if you were 'temporary help'. I'll stand by you. Trust me. No one hurts my partner."

"That's a nice sentiment but this is the real…" The pain in his hand stopped him from completing his sentence. She'd dug her nails into the back of his hand and he glanced up at her face and saw her determination.

"Sarah, honey, baby, sweetie pie, you're drawing blood." He tried for levity but that failed. If anything, her grip tightened.

"No. We're in this together. I won't step aside. Live with it, Carmichael." Her death grip lessened somewhat and she held his hand up a bit and looked at what she'd done.

"Sorry about the nails but I'm not sorry about how I feel. Loyalty and trust. The foundation of a good partnership."

"Pain and butterfly stitches. OK, I get the general idea. Now can I have my hand back?"

She smiled at him – really smiled and it took his breath away. When she smiles like that and her eyes crinkle she looks just like… He shook himself and pasted on a smile for Carina.

"Hey, Chuck, Sarah. Casey figured you could use a lift. He's at the Castle and Beckman's anxious for a debriefing. Where are your weapons, guys? How did you get through customs?"

"Beckman wants a debriefing? OK. Hey, I got to make a stop, Carina, before we get there. It's just up the road and won't take a second. I'm sure it'll come in handy for Beckman's briefing."

He indicated the exit to take off the interstate and had her pull into a strip mall and Chuck went into a store. Once inside and making sure he couldn't be seen from the Rover, he went out the back and walked down the back of the stores and walked into FedEx and picked up a 'hold for pickup' he'd shipped to himself from Cyprus.

He walked around the end of the strip and tore open the package and removed their pistols, magazines and silencers. They should have turned them in to Casey for handling in Cyrpus but he'd figured, correctly, that things were too frantic for him to remember about guns. Carina's comment about weapons confirmed it. They wanted him unarmed.

Sarah and Carina were deep in conversation about Chuck and his mental state. Carina was asking 'debriefing' questions and Sarah was being as vague as possible. She wasn't being paranoid but she was sure this wasn't standard operating procedure.

"How's he sleeping? Has he had any problems with losing focus? Has he looked lost or had difficulty carrying on normal conversation?"

"He slept on the plane and didn't seem to have any problems with speech or zoning out. What's this all about, Carina? He's fine."

"Your Agency's been playing around with the process that puts things in your head, know what I mean? It's got some horrible side effects and whatever Larkin did to the files…it kills people who try and duplicate the download. Beckman's worried about Chuck. She's looking for any signs of mental deterioration or instability."

"You saw him in Nicosia, Carina. Did he look unstable to you? He's sharp as a tack. What's this really about?"

Carina looked at her 'adversary' in the battle for Chuck's affections. Yeah, she wanted Chuck and this CIA skank was an obstacle she needed to crush.

"I already told you. Are you deaf? Beckman's worried about him. She's worried he'll go rogue or just crazy and try to join his precious Je…"

Chuck jerked open the passenger door and slipped in behind Carina and jammed the muzzle of his pistol into the back of her neck cutting off her comments. Sarah was surprised but more aggravated that she'd missed hearing just who 'his precious Je' was.

"Sarah, take her weapon, throw her purse back here and check her for a backup pistol on her ankle under her jeans. She probably has a boot knife in her half-Wellingtons."

Sarah didn't question his actions, just did as he ordered. She wondered if this was the 'instability' the general was concerned about. She banished the thought from her mind upon finding a boot knife and a small .25 caliber backup piece in a holster above her boot.

"Sarah, here's your pistol. I only smuggled us out one magazine apiece so keep that in mind. Carina uses a Glock .40 so we can't use her ammo. Now, Carina, please explain why the very first thing you wanted to know about was whether we were armed or not?"

He punctuated his question with a nudge to the back of her neck. Sarah saw fear on Miller's face and glanced back at Chuck and saw the same face she'd seen in Helen Free's hotel room in Cyprus. Cold, unfeeling, arrogance. She held the mini-sweetdreams injector she'd found in Miller's purse in her hand, wondering whether or not to use it on her partner.

"Now, Agent Miller, not when you feel like it. Now. Start talking. I know this isn't an extraction because you'd want Casey here and Walker out of the way since she'd be unarmed. Talk, Carina. You mean less to me than Helen did and you know how that turned out."

"It's not what you think, Charles, not at all. Beckman's…"

"You have no idea what I think, Miller. No conjecture. What are you orders?" He jabbed the back of her neck again to emphasize his point.

"Will you quit that, Chuck. Jesus, I swear if you weren't so…just stop with the prodding. I'm getting to it."

Sarah almost laughed. Miller was losing focus and Chuck was manipulating her, keeping her off balance. She turned around and smiled at her partner and winked.

"Carina, just between us girls, if Chuck hadn't had the foresight to ship our weapons out, where would this have ended up?"

"At the Castle. Beckman just wants him in custody and then examined at the Federal facility in Los Angeles to make sure he's not fucking nuts! But this stunt proves Beckman's right. He's unstable, unpredictable and a loose cannon. You are sooo screwed, Chuckie."

"So after being betrayed by Helen Free and having the mission jerked out from underneath us and then being jerked around on the flights back, trying to protect his partner and himself is…'unstable, unpredictable'? I call bullshit on you, Miller. I say he's acting properly, protecting the intersect since you are the one who's acting suspiciously. He doesn't know who to trust and I'm the only one around who has his back."

Chuck felt a warm feeling he hadn't in months. He had someone on his side, watching his back, trusting that he was acting with the best of intentions. Well, he'd prove it.

He took out his cell phone and speed dialed Beckman. He put it on speaker so that Sarah could hear. After all, she was in this up to her patrician beauty.

"Beckman, secure. Carmichael, what is it? Are you in L.A. yet? Miller is picking you up. You and Walker, I mean. Is everything OK?"

"Carmichael. I'm disappointed in you, General. You should have done the extraction in Rome when we were separated. Or just had me fly into DC and then your shrinks could have certified me and you could have ended this charade right then and there."

He heard the general sigh, a sure sign of her frustration with him.

"What do you think is going on, Cardinal?"

"I think the CIA tried to duplicate the download and it bit them in the ass. Maybe it was a flaw in their presentation, maybe they had bad data, maybe I'm just unique, but now you're not sure that you can rely on the intersect, or me, for that matter. Well, General Beckman, you can. I'm way ahead of you on this."

"Fine, Charles. Explain things. Perhaps I've been…precipitous in my actions."

"You dumped the chance to take out Roskov and pick up the nukes in order to learn about those funny circles on the bad guys' arms. I broke Free and found out more about the Ring than even the Brits suspect. You jumped to the conclusion that either a) I'd been turned by Free back in Moab or b) I've always been in with Fulcrum and the Ring. After all, the entire team was to have been killed in Cyprus…except for me and I'd have conveniently disappeared along with your precious intersect."

"Or maybe I just came to the conclusion that the loss of your wife had unhinged you and that you pose a greater danger alive and free than either in detention or dead."

"You'd have made that decision in Moab, General. I'll make you a deal, General Beckman. I'll walk into the facility in L.A., alone and unarmed but if you're wrong, you put me back on the street with my team and let me finish what I've started."

"And if I'm right?"

"Then you'll put me out of my misery. You had Helen killed. I know how your mind works. Once a traitor, always a traitor. There's no second chance to screw you over if the traitor's dead."

"Put Agent Walker on the phone, Charles, and surrender your weapons to her. We'll do it your way."

He handed Sarah the phone and safed his 9mm and ejected the round and the magazine and tossed them up into the front seat. He leaned back and closed his eyes. It was almost over.

"This is Agent Walker, General. Before you say anything, I have to tell you that I agree with Carmichael's analysis. This intersect thing had pieces of the big picture spread throughout various files and he somehow put them all together. I think he's right and you're wrong. He's neither a traitor nor insane. He's wrong about one thing though…"

"What's he wrong about, Walker?"

"He won't go into your facility alone and I'll be armed and with him throughout his stay. He's right, you're wrong. That's the deal."

Chuck opened his eyes in surprise. He never expected Walker to back him up nor did he expect the firm conviction in her voice when she said that 'he was neither a traitor nor unhinged'. She was looking directly at him and when they made eye contact the strangest feeling of contentment washed over him. She must have noticed something because she smiled a smile he'd never seen before.

Sarah concluded her conversation and turned from looking at her partner to looking at the skank who was willing to betray him despite 'having feelings' for him. What a mess. The only thing she was sure of was that her partner was telling the truth and that the NSA was a snake pit of double-dealing and backstabbing, just like the CIA.

"Miller, do you know where this 'facility' is located?" Miller nodded.

"Good. Drive us there. You'll stay with the Rover until we return and then you'll take us to our condominium and I don't want to see either you or Major Casey until we come in tomorrow afternoon. Understand?" Her tone was frigid and Carina knew she'd just as soon kill her and drive herself than put up with anything but complete compliance.

It's what she'd do if the situation were reversed.


	16. Chapter 16

Nik's Notes: Now I know why he always quotes things. I swear he has every book this guy ever wrote. He says they're for his niece who never visits. Uh huh.

One more chapter and then an 'M' rated epilogue that I'll post on his profile page after I get back. Going to meet him in Chicago and we're going where it's warm and people aren't so damned rude.

Merry Christmas!

Jim & Nikki B

* * *

_**Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.**_

_**Terry Pratchett, aka Sir Terence David John Pratchett OBE**_

* * *

Federal Intelligence Center  
Interrogation Facility  
Los Angeles, CA

This was the last 'session' and she could tell that Charles was exhausted. She was equally tired and a glance at her watch told her why. They'd been at it for more than 10 hours.

Sarah sat in an observation room and watched while two guards strapped her partner into a chair after removing his shirt. He was given an injection and then electrodes were attached to his chest. When he was barely conscious, a woman walked into the room and sat down across from him at a small table and opened up a briefcase and took out some folders.

She left the room and returned with a medical attendant who inserted an IV into her partner's arm, hung a bag of some fluid on an IV stand and then took up a position behind her partner. Whatever was in the bag was making Charles 'uncomfortable' and he began squirming and struggling with his restraints.

The young brunette woman checked a heart monitor and shuffled her folders, selecting one and opening it flat on her table.

By this time whatever was in the bag had overpowered the sedative and Carmichael was wide awake if somewhat disoriented.

"Agent Carmichael, I'm going to show you some photographs and ask you some questions. It is important that you concentrate on my voice and the photographs. The sooner we finish here, the sooner your discomfort will end."

Sarah couldn't see the photographs he was being shown. John Casey walked into the room and sat down beside her. She glanced over at his face and was surprised to see a look of sympathy.

"That's a heart monitor to make sure he doesn't go into arrest." He explained the electrodes all over his chest.

She held up the first photograph. "Who is this woman, Agent?"

"My wife." Slightly slurred.

"Very good but doesn't she have a name, Agent?" Her voice was soft but chiding.

"Of course she had a name."

"What was her name?"

No response. She looked over Chuck's shoulder and nodded. The man had something in his hand and he jabbed her partner in the spine making him arch his back against the restraints. He clamped his mouth shut to stifle a scream.

"What happened to her, Agent Carmichael?" She still maintained the sweet and soft voice.

"I killed her."

"That's not true, Agent. You didn't kill her. Now, tell me what happened to her?"

"I killed her." She nodded to the man and he jabbed him again with the same results.

"We'll come back to this, Agent, when you're more agreeable." She must have made a motion Sarah missed because the attendant reached up and increased the drip rate of the hanging IV bag.

"C'mon, Chuck. Don't be a hard ass. It's ancient history. No one can hurt her now." Casey had spoken in a whisper but she'd heard him.

"What do you mean, Major? Who can't he hurt?"

"His wife. He was the target. She was…with him and she died. He blames himself and he'll refuse to answer the interrogator and she'll increase the drip rate and he'll still refuse. It's happened before. He thinks it's punishment he deserves. He won't tell her a damned thing she wants to know. He won't crack. Beckman's nuts. He's not Fulcrum or Ring."

"Who is this woman?" She showed him another photograph.

"Sarah Walker. She's CIA."

"Is she a member of Fulcrum or the Ring?"

"No. I told you already. Are you deaf? She's a CIA agent attached to our team temporarily."

"Temporarily?"

"Yeah. She'll request transfer after this. Don't blame her one bit." Sarah glanced over at Casey but he just shrugged. "He doesn't think anyone will want to work with him because his wife was killed."

"Who is this woman?"

"Carina Miller, NSA."

"And is she a member of Fulcrum or the Ring?"

"No. Their standards are probably too high." Sarah's snicker in the observation room went unheard. Casey just grunted.

"Who is this man?"

"Major John Casey, my partner before Walker showed up."

"Is he a member of Fulcrum or the Ring?"

"No. He's too anal for that and besides…he's a patriot." Casey just grunted but he was secretly pleased with Carmichael's evaluation of him.

"And who is this man, Agent Carmichael?" Her tone changed and was more inquisitive. Even Sarah could hear the anticipation in her voice.

"Charles B-Bartowski." He answered through clenched teeth.

Sarah's hands flew to her mouth and her eyes started to tear. Casey looked over at her and wondered about her reaction. If she felt like this now, she'd be something else when it got intense.

"Was he a Ring agent?"

"No. He was an NSA asset/operative and then an agent."

"Was he a Fulcrum agent?"

"Are you deaf, doctor? I told you he was NSA. An agent. He was a good man and he tried to be a good husband. He wasn't a very good agent." He was writhing in his restraints, trying to get out of them.

"Why do you say that?"

"He got his wife killed. He should have known better. He shouldn't have let her get close. He shouldn't have married her. He should have saved her – left her, divorced her. He should have saved her." He was shouting now and struggling to escape. The interrogator nodded at the attendant and he hit Chuck in the spine again but this time he did scream.

"Stun gun. Mid-range setting. Still hurts like a bitch. They'll increase the setting next time around. C'mon, Chuck, give them what they want. You have nothing to prove and nothing to be ashamed of."

Casey glanced over at Walker and was surprised at both the tears and how she was gnawing at her lower lip.

"Sarah, you don't have to be here for this. Get some coffee. I'll meet you in the cafeteria when it's done. It's going to get worse and he'll need cleaned up and it'll take a while…"

"No! No! I want to hear this. I want to hear what he knows about Charles Bartowski. "

"Why? Did you know him? He _was _a good man and a good agent. Still is."

"What! What did you say, Casey?" She was staring at him with such intensity that it unnerved him.

"I said he was a good man and a good agent. He was. He was my friend and partner for years."

"You said 'still is', I heard it. What did you mean? Damn you, tell me!"

"OK, but it's not in your brief, Sarah. That man out there…that's Chuck Bartowski, my friend and partner before Fulcrum tried to kill him. They worked on him for months to get him back to where he is now. His wife was DOA..."

"Chuck…oh, my God, Chuck!" She stood and gave John Casey her special smile and ran out of the observation room leaving a stunned Casey in her wake.

'_He's alive! He's alive!'_

* * *

There was a guard at the door and he stepped in front of her, barring her way. She bared her teeth and actually growled. "Stand aside. Get out of my way…"

"Agent, you can't…" It was hard to talk after being viciously kneed in the groin.

Sarah reached down and tore the access card from the guard's shirt and swiped it and stepped into the interrogation room, pistol in hand.

"Get away from him! Stand down. Get that damned drip out of his arm. Get those restraints off him. Do it or I'll kneecap the both of you!" She had her pistol moving rapidly between the two people in the room and she'd been shouting as loudly as she could.

"Agent Walker…"

"No! It's Agent Bartowski. Jennifer Burton Bartowski. That man is my husband! I was told he was dead. He was told _I _was dead. You bastards lied to both of us and now someone's going to pay for what you've done to us."

* * *

Casey stood in the observation room staring at the scene unfolding before him. He had called Beckman when Walker made her startling announcement and the General was on the line demanding he respond but he was speechless.

"Major Casey, what's happening there? Answer me!" She was yelling into the speakerphone demanding a response.

"General, you got a problem. Walker is Bartowski's wife, Jennifer, and boy, is she pissed!"

He was stunned again by the General's laughter. "It's OK, Major. I know. I've known since I first met her. Graham reported her as DOA and put her through his version of Moab. He picked up on our death report on Bartowski and told her _he_ was dead. Believe it or not, Major, this is a good thing. Bartowski would never have believed Sarah was his wife if we just told him."

"Uh, General, Carmichael doesn't know Sarah's Jenny. He's out cold. Oh, crap, this is confusing. She doesn't look anything like she did. She even looks taller and…she's off the rails, General. She's going to get someone killed."

"Major, give her what aid you can. Take them out of there. I'll clear the way for you. Take them to their condo first, pack bags and then go to…wait a minute…take them to Bartowski's place on Lake Tahoe. No one knows about it but the two of them. Leave them alone. Make some excuse. It'll all work out and we'll have a united team again."

"General, I don't think Bartowski will buy it for one second. He's…"

"Have a little faith, John. Do as you've been told. Just stand by for further instructions. I'd recommend keeping Miller away for a while though."

"Lake Tahoe. Yes, ma'am. Uh, how do I get there?"

"Ask Jennifer. Hop to it, Major. I've got the security people on the other line. Make it look authentic. You're rescuing them from the evil clutches of the NSA…"

* * *

Casey charged into the room, pistol in hand and ordered the doctor and attendant out of the room. He knelt beside Chuck and removed the IV from his arm and started unbuckling the restraints. He was out cold from the last jolt from the stunner but was drenched in sweat.

"Sarah, we've got to get him, you, hell, all of us, out of here. We'll swing by the condo and grab your bags and then we'll head to Chuck's hideaway up on Tahoe if he can give us directions. I've never been there…"

"I have. I'll give you directions. Just drop your pistol and tell me why you're doing this, Major." Her pistol was pointed at his heart and he knew she'd use it if he blew his explanation.

"He's my friend and you're his wife. He deserves to know you're still alive. I had no idea you were Jenny, _are_ Jenny. Shit, this is complicated. He needs you. You saw how he was. He thinks he got you killed by marrying you. Collateral damage. He needs to know the damned truth so he can quit trying to get killed on the job."

"Casey, Gra - Graham told me _I_ was the target and that Chuck was just an innocent civilian. Fulcrum targeted me because of an op in Montreal where we snatched their Planner. He told me he was dead but that I could avenge him and help destroy Fulcrum. It's all I lived for. It kept me alive until I met Carmichael. Beckman knew! She knew who I was and that he was alive. She gave me hints and I missed them! Oh, shit…" She started to cry and berate herself mentally.

"We don't have time for your girly stuff now, Sarah. We have to get him out of here. I'll have to carry him. Cover my ass. We're going to Chuck's Rover and then to the condo and then to Tahoe. I'll need you alert for directions."

* * *

Sarah unlocked the condo door and rushed in and began throwing clothes into a pile. Chuck's door was locked but a well-placed side kick broke the lock and she walked in and stopped. Their pictures, their stuff, was everywhere. There were still unpacked boxes but she homed in on his few cold weather clothes, ignoring their treasures for later.

She was leaving when she spotted his watch in the glass case along with her rings and his wedding band. Grinning like an idiot, she stuffed them into her pocket and then put the clothes in two large trash bags and ran back to the Rover.

"That was quick. I figured…" O_h, shit. Not tears again? Damn it, I need her frosty not wallowing in guilt and remorse._

"Wait a minute. I forgot something." She ran back into the condo and started 'unpacking' boxes by dumping them on the bed. She finally found what she was looking for and stuffed her finds in a trash bag and ran back to the Rover. She'd been distracted on her way out by some things lying on the floor beside his bed and had stuffed them into the plastic bag with the other items.

"Get in the backseat with the moron. He'll be coming to any time now and I don't want an enraged Cardinal trying to kill us. You'll need to give him a quick explanation until we get to Tahoe and you have time for a more detailed one. I'll leave you two alone and take the Rover far enough away that no one will make a connection with the lodge."

She wiped away her tears and hopped into the backseat and fished out her rings and put them on. Chuck was mumbling something and so she told him to sit up and help her. He struggled to make sense of where he was but sat up.

"Baby, I know you're confused right now but everything's going to be all right, I promise you. Give me your hand. I got something for you. Two somethings."

She took his hand and pushed on his wedding band and her eyes teared up again but she stripped off his NSA watch and put it in his shirt pocket. She put his Rolex on his wrist where it belonged and pulled him over to her and let him rest his head in her lap. Sarah stroked his hair and looked for any signs of her husband that she might have overlooked.

"He'll sleep for a while, Sarah. Give me directions and I'll wake you when I need more. You're both tired and need to sleep." What he didn't say was that he needed to think, to wrap his head around what he'd learned. The situation was unusual to say the least. What bothered him the most was that Beckman said she'd known about Jenny/Sarah since she'd first met her. Why hadn't she said something?

She had a plan. It was slapdash but it might work. She'd tell him everything she could remember about being his wife, about their 'courtship' and about all the things they'd shared only between themselves. Then she'd come clean on everything she'd done as an agent right up to pulling him out of that damned torture chamber.

Satisfied with her intentions, she held him close to her and nodded off, sublimely happy for the first time in more than a year.

* * *

Chuck woke in stages. He was lying down on someone soft and being held close. He was in a moving vehicle and, cracking open one eye, it was dark.

He tried to sit up but heard a muffled 'No!' in protest but he just untangled himself and moved to the other side of…his Rover. They were on an interstate heading…he didn't know where. He glanced at his watch…his Rolex? What the fuck was going on?

"Casey, that you?" He thought his friend was driving but wasn't sure.

"Yeah. We're heading to your place on Lake Tahoe. I need directions once we get off the interstate. Can you stay awake long enough to help me?"

"Yeah, I'm awake. Just got a killer headache and need you to stop and let me use Nature's facilities…soon." He looked over at his partner, sitting up in what had to be an uncomfortable position to sleep in.

"We'll need to stop for gas soon at one of the next exits. Maybe grab something to eat, too. How much do you remember about what happened?"

"Nothing much. Usual pain and questions, I guess. Back hurts a lot more than usual. I guess I didn't cooperate anymore than usual. Lot of 'ususals' in my recent past." He laughed but then looked over at Walker and made a bold move – for him.

He unfastened her seatbelt and pulled her gently over so that her head was in his lap. He figured turnabout was fair play. He reached over the back seat and pulled up a blanket he kept behind the seat and covered her after pulling her skirt down to a modest level. She snuggled down and sighed, pulling her knees up on the seat but not waking up. She murmured his name and giggled and then was asleep again.

"Where's Miller? I figured she'd want to be in on the thrills of a real extraction." He'd done a quick and discrete pat-down and couldn't find Sarah's pistol. He wasn't crude enough to check for a thigh holster for her knives. She probably thought he was a monster if she'd heard the interrogation. What he remembered hadn't been all that good.

"Miller's in L.A. holding down the fort. It's not an extraction, moron, it's a rescue. Your partner practically decimated the security guards and scared the crap out of the interrogation team. I'm going to dump you two off at your place on the lake and then probably just hunker down and wait for events to unfold. The situation is rather unusual. Got no protocols to follow so we're making up our own."

"Why dump us off and then leave? You should stay. We can stop off in town for supplies and then hole up until we have a better understanding of what's happening."

"We'll stock up on supplies for the two of you. Your partner will explain the how's and why's to you. I'm just getting the Rover out of sight. I'll head down to a casino and find a room and play some poker. You'll know when to contact me for pickup."

"What's going on, John. This isn't like you to be so…damned…I don't know. You don't really think they think I'm Fulcrum or the Ring, do you?"

"I don't believe it for a second, Bartowski, but there are those with doubts. You'll just have to wait for things to shake out, that's all. Have some faith. You're going to hear things, unbelievable things, but I believe they're true."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He never got an answer. Casey took an exit off the interstate and pulled into a gas station.

"Hit the head and get me some coffee, will ya? Then I need to use the facilities. You might want to wake the missus and check on her needs." Casey smiled at the double entendre. He loved messing with Chuck's mind.

"She's my partner, Casey, not 'the missus'. Jesus, you're worse than Carina."

Casey got out to pump gas and Chuck gently sat Sarah upright. "Hey, Sarah, we've stopped for gas and the restroom. I'm getting coffee. You want some?"

"Oh, yeah. And the restroom. Did you sleep at all, baby? What they did to you was horrible. How do you feel? Yeah, coffee. You know how I like it."

She hopped out of the Rover and practically ran to the convenience store and the restroom.

'_Baby? Coffee? You know how I like it? What the hell…'_

* * *

Chuck pulled his jacket around him. It was colder in the mountains than L.A. and it was late November. He made his way into the convenience store and the restroom. While he was in there, he called his caretaker and had the electricity and water turned on and a load of firewood stacked on the porch in case it rained.

He got coffee for himself and Casey and stopped when he got Sarah's. _'You know how I like it.'_ He'd never seen her drink coffee. He dumped in two sugars and a creamer and put on the lid. He hoped she was satisfied with it. It's how Jenny drank it. If she didn't like it…he'd get her another.

Casey was either in the restroom or paying for the gas and he decided he'd drive a while and give Casey a break. He started to get into the driver's seat but Sarah stopped him, indicating his seat was in the rear, beside her. She was sipping her coffee so he must have gotten it right.

He got into the back seat and noticed that his partner was shivering so he grabbed the blanket from the floor where it had fallen and wrapped it around her. She made an appreciative sound and then gave him the most radiant smile he'd ever seen on her.

She leaned over and thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and said, "You always know when I'm cold. Thanks. It was nice waking up warm and with my head in your lap. Did Casey tell you the plan?"

"Yeah. But I want to know is what the hell possessed you to pull me out of an interrogation that would have proven I wasn't Ring or Fulcrum? They're gonna be looking for us now, Sarah, and you shouldn't have done it. They weren't going to kill me. They need me too damned bad. They need what's in my head."

"Well, Chuck, I need you safe and unharmed and those butchers were going to fry your brain with that stun gun and you were so damned stubborn and wouldn't even tell them my name. I won't have you being hurt over something as stupid as my name, baby."

"Stop with the 'baby'. Sarah, what's gotten into you? This is so…and where did this damned watch come from?"

"I gave you the 'damned watch', Charles Irving Bartowski, on our first Christmas together. And you gave me this." She held up the key on its platinum chain and waved it in his face. It had always been around her neck except when she was sleeping and then it was safely tucked away someplace safe. She wouldn't share what little remained of her marriage with anyone.

"It was in a little white box that had white cotton batting in it and this beautiful 'key to your heart' was inside. Look at me, Chuck…don't you see me? I'm your Jenny…Jenny Bartowski."

"No no no no no no…" Fight or flight response hit him with a vengeance and he fumbled for the door still saying 'no' over and over again. Jenny panicked and slapped a small dose Sweet Dreams dart in his neck. She didn't want him running around in his current panicky state.

* * *

Casey picked that moment to return and took in the sleeping Chuck and crying Jenny and cursed the moron for being so damned stubborn.

"He panicked when I told him I was Jenny and he tried to get out and run. I had to use it, Casey."

"You did the right thing. I guess your planted hints were too subtle, Sarah. He's stressed out to the max right now. He needs to rest. He'll come around. He loves Jenny. He just has to accept a new package, that's all, just like you have to."

"He's pissed about being 'rescued'. He thinks they'll think he's Fulcrum or the Ring now. He was hyperventilating and panicking and I really…"

"He needs you to be strong and focused. I don't know why you can accept that he's Chuck Bartowski so easily and he can't accept that you're his Jenny."

"I realized that he was still protecting me even though he thought I was dead. Between that and your slip of the tongue, it all just came crashing down on me and I'd probably have reacted a lot like he is except they were hurting him and I was the reason. I had to act. It's definitely him, Casey, and in case you think he has doubts, he got my coffee right."

Casey just stared and then started to laugh. Jesus, what a team this was going to be.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: This is the end of this story. I leave you with a quote from Harrison Ford's autobiography, _Harrison Ford, Imperfect Hero_by Gerry Jenkins, that planted the seed for this tripe.

"_We all have big changes in out lives that are more or less a second chance."_

I got my second chance.

* * *

Sarah wondered how they'd handle the names issue. She was his Jenny and he was her Chuck but she'd used Sara Gamble and Graham had also made her Sarah and…she was getting a headache thinking about it.

She spent the remaining two hours of the long drive just touching him while he lay on her lap, occasionally distracted by Casey's need for directions or questions or comments. She ran her fingertips over his face with her eyes closed trying to remember how he 'felt' before but she gave up. Looks weren't important.

OK, so she was damned glad they'd fixed his nose. The damned thing bled if she even bumped it when they were making love and things got a bit exciting.

She held his hand and wondered why she hadn't noticed the perfect fit those few times she'd held his hand between Italy and Cypress. He had such beautiful hands and she couldn't wait until he was alert enough and they were in private and he could explore the changes in _her_ body.

She ran her fingers down his left leg and felt the raised scar from when he'd been shot in Rwanda. But he hadn't been in Rwanda. He'd been skiing for his life from the Fulcrum Hounds. Casey had…that son of a bitch!

"Casey, you lied to me. You told me Chuck was in Rwanda and got shot. That was when he was running his test and the Fulcrum Hounds were after him, right?"

"Yeah. It was his final exam. He was desperate to finish it. Beckman told him that if he failed, they'd take him into custody and he'd never see you again. I don't think she was serious but with Beckman back then…you never knew. She's mellowed."

"So all that stuff he told me was a lie? He hadn't been captured and wasn't going to be killed by rebels?"

Casey knew where this was headed and decided to nip it in the bud.

"Jennifer Burton was the most important person in the world to him. He'd basically been told if he failed he'd be put down under Moab. Hell yeah, he lied to you. Beckman's orders were that if he breathed a word to you she'd have you in custody or worse. What he went through in those mountains was a hell of a lot worse than being a hostage in Rwanda."

"OK, I guess I understand. Casey, he never knew I was an agent? He never suspected a thing?"

"Well, don't freak out, but he did ask me to set up surveillance on anyone who seemed to be hassling you. I never did it because…well, because I didn't think it was necessary. When you guys started dating and it got serious I had a standard background run on you. Nothing bad so I just ignored what happened between you two. CIA had a good cover built for you."

She was quiet and obviously thinking about things and probably coming to the wrong conclusion about things.

"Sarah, hell, Jennifer, he wanted to tell you he was an agent. He started to tell you a hundred times but he was afraid you'd dump him. He didn't think you'd be able to live with a killer. He finally told me when he was going down to pick you up that night that he was going to come clean. He hated lying to you. It was eating him up."

"I plan on telling him everything I did as an agent. I started to tell him a thousand times…my alias was Sara Gamble before the accident. Maybe there's something in the intersect on me that he can find and we can talk about."

There _was_ something in the intersect. He felt the itching and tug that signified a flash even though he was half asleep.

Image of a dead kitten

_A series of numbers_

_A Federal Document Locator Number_

_Image of a dead kitten_

The information filed under 'Sara Gamble' led to other documents and reports including a summary of her initial assignments in witness protection, the development of her 'cover' as a physical therapist and finally a tersely worded report on…Charles Bartowski.

_Subject is in relationship with Agent Jennifer Burton since a casual meeting at UCLA where Burton was attending a pre-licensing course in keeping with her cover. Subject has federal file #62618-0145-087 and it has been sealed under Executive Order 231233. Executive Order 231233 covers covert assets/operatives involved in Projects Omaha and Phase Sigma. Recommend surveillance be suspended and that Agent Burton be encouraged to maintain a relationship with subject Bartowski. Subject should not be approached but tagged for future recruitment._

He smiled sleepily to himself. Who knew that the CIA was into matchmaking? He didn't care if she was _ordered_ to marry him. He had loved her and she certainly appeared to have loved him and that was good enough.

He filed _Phase Sigma_ for future inquiry. He had enough to deal with.

Sarah Walker was a reborn; Charles Carmichael was a reborn. Were they still married? Their Chuck & Jenny were legally dead and gone.

"Sarah, can you let go so I can sit up?" He didn't speak loudly enough for Casey to hear him. He pushed himself upright and saw that they were not more than a few miles from the lodge.

"Casey, are you sure you won't hole up with us? You can sleep in the loft. Nice comfortable sofa bed and you're more than welcome." Actually, the very last thing he wanted was for his partner to be 'in residence' in the lodge. He had plans that didn't include Casey.

"Nope. Looking forward to a nice room and time playing poker after we get you guys stocked up with food and booze for a couple of weeks. No sense spending time with you two rekindling all those girly moments you used to tell me about. Nope. Booze, cards, fine cigars and maybe a woman willing to max out the government's credit card with me."

Sarah looked out the window and bit her lip to keep from uttering the protest that was forming in her throat. _Doesn't he want us to be…alone? Maybe he doesn't really accept me as Jenny yet?_

"I had to ask, John, just to be polite." He was smiling and Casey chuckled. "Yeah, I figured as much, asshole."

* * *

The Lodge  
Lake Tahoe City, NV

Chuck spoke with Casey on the porch after unloading the groceries they bought, firing up the heat and the generator. Sarah was busy pulling things out of their trash bag 'luggage' saying she wanted to hit the shower first.

"Casey, you don't believe I'm Fulcrum or Ring, do you? I know she doesn't but it's your opinion I value more right now."

"Hell no, you're not a traitor. Beckman's paranoid but she 'suggested' this place. Seems she caught on to your deal with your attorney not to unload the lodge. Makes sense. A nice quiet place off the books and definitely off the beaten path. Surprised she knew about it."

"How long until we can come in, John? I won't go WitSec. We're a team and I want to keep it together."

"Miller's got to go. I've already discussed it with Beckman. She's going to assign someone familiar to all of us so I still have a 'ball and chain' cover going. Cramps my social life, Chuck."

They both laughed since they knew that his 'social life' was booze and the History Channel.

"OK, well, call me if you hear anything or get bored. And thanks for everything, John."

"Don't go all girly on me, Cardinal. I'll call you when I hear something."

* * *

Chuck stood on the porch watching the taillights of his Rover disappear into the night. He was nervous. This was a situation he couldn't handle rationally.

He turned on his heel and walked back into the lodge.

It was still chilly and so he busied himself with starting a fire to take the last of the chill out of the air. The place had a musty unused smell to it and he hoped the fire would squelch it. His monkey brain dredged up memories of the pine scent from the tree from their first Christmas and his subconscious provided the rest.

He took off his watch and turned it over and glanced at the inscription Jenny had put on the reverse.

_Always Come Home to Me  
__Jenny  
__Xmas 2006_

He couldn't remember Christmas of 2007. He'd either been in Moab or just returned to his cover in L.A. He didn't _want_ to remember it. Those months had been a blurry series of faceless doctors and nurses, therapists, pain and long periods where he didn't remember a damned thing.

He'd been reborn and hadn't really started to live again until Sarah Walker had sat down beside him on the plane. He wondered if she felt the same way or if…

* * *

Sarah looked in the bathroom mirror and stared at her face. The last time she'd been here her face had been…different. Except for the eyes, this face had never been here.

'_Where the hell is he? It doesn't take this long to say goodbye. He's probably puttering around with the fire and trying to get the place warmed up. I'll bet he's nervous. It's not everyday you discover that your partner in crime and spying is your dead wife who doesn't look a damned thing like she did when she was around the last time. Yeah. He's nervous. Well, Bartowski, join the club. I'm scared to death.'_

She heard him trudging up the stairs like a condemned man walking the Long Mile to the execution chamber. She dreaded seeing him but couldn't wait to see him. How's that for conflict?

"Chuck, I'm in here, honey. The shower's all yours. I'll go down and make coffee while you shower or you can maybe take a long soak in the tub." She'd put on her 'seduction outfit', those tight jeans he loved and the light blue sweater with an indecently plunging neckline, and boots but she dumped the bra at the last minute. She wanted to entice him as well as let him see the 'key to his heart'.

'_Yeah. A nice long soak to relieve the stress and ache of what those butchers did! Well, a really long soak to give you time to relax and then I'll slip in and we can really get to know each other again. Damn, I'm so horny…! I haven't felt this way since my Chuck died.'_

Chuck wanted so badly to believe that the woman who brought him back to life was somehow his Jenny. He needed to believe it. It had to be true. It couldn't be some fucking spy game that Beckman was playing.

_In the next few minutes, or in the next few hours - some things are going to happen that will impact my future – our future._

_I'll take action towards fulfilling a dream... or I won't._

_I'll have committed to something that makes me feel good about  
myself and will bring me great peace and joy..._

_Or I won't._

_I need to make a choice, to push past my comfort zone, take a chance on us…_

'It's impossible', said pride. _Our wife is dead, her ashes scattered in the Pacific._

'It's risky', said experience. _But if she isn't dead, if this is Jenny, how could we make it work given what we do – we're spies? _

'It's pointless.' said reason_. __Beckman will never allow us to be together, let alone be partners. She'll see Jenny as a liability to be used against me._

'Give it a try', whispered the heart.** _But I love Jenny. She's Sarah Walker now. The same person in a slightly different package. If she can accept Carmichael as her Chuck, why can't I accept her as my Jenny?_

"Jennifer, we need to talk."

'_He called me 'Jennifer' so this is serious. He never calls me Jennifer unless it's serious or he's pissed or it's both. **Wait! He called me 'Jennifer'!'**_

She nodded, dreading what was coming but hoping that because he'd called her 'Jennifer'…

He looked uncomfortable…like he had something to say but dreaded saying it.

"I agree. We have to talk. You first. I've had a lot longer to wrap my head around all that's happened than you have – if you call 6 hours a 'lot longer'."

She smiled shyly, wishing it were this time tomorrow so she'd know if she was still his wife and partner or some shattered wreck asking for reassignment.

"J – Jennifer, uh, Sarah, uh…shit. I'm sorry. This is so damned hard for me and I'm so…" He stopped and took a cleansing breath, stared at the floor and in a very small voice, almost a whisper, he said, "I'm so damned scared, Jenny…"

She covered the 7 feet 5 inches that separated them without realizing it. She had him ensnared with as much of her touching him as possible without knocking him down.

"I know, baby, I know. It's so damned confusing and yet I know it's you, I know because…I just know. Your hand still fits mine and I should have felt it earlier. I don't know, honey, maybe I did. I know that when we slept together I felt such…peace. I'm Jennifer Lisa Burton Bartowski, wife and lover of Charles Irving Bartowski. Sarah's just a wrapper, that's all. I'm still me and you're still you."

"But I – I found another woman who makes me glad I am alive, who makes me happy to finally end the work day so I can be with her, who is the last thing I ever want to see before I die but who makes me hope for a long life. I can't explain the 'why' just that I do. She makes me happy, Jennifer, and if that alone isn't enough…"

She tried to pull away from him, afraid of what he'd say next and wanting to run away but he held on, not letting her separate from him. He'd said those same things to her once before but…now he was saying them about someone else. She couldn't help it. She started to cry and sagged against him in utter defeat.

He whispered in her ear and his breath made her shiver with longing for what she'd never have again.

"…And if that isn't enough, she's also my wife and lover, but like you said, in a different wrapper… I love you, Jenny Burton or Sara Gamble or Sarah Walker or any other name you might use. Please don't cry, Jenny. We've had enough tears in the last months. No more tears, no more sadness. We have a second chance to make it _even better_ than before."

He laced the fingers of both hands behind her neck and used his thumbs against her jawbone to raise her face from where it was buried in his neck.

Their first kiss in more than a year was gentle and soft and slow. He sucked her lower lip gently and ran the tip of his tongue ever so lightly across it and sighed. She was still sniffling and he wiped the tears from her face and kissed the tip of her nose.

"I remember the last time you wore this sweater and jeans and these boots I love. It was when you picked me up from the airport in your Porsche and you looked so damned good, Jenny. You look as beautiful to me now as you did then. Nothing's changed inside, where it counts. I'm going to shut up now before I screw this up."

"Good. You should use your mouth for so many other things, husband. But first, dear God, kiss me again and then take a shower. You smell of fear and pain and that's not what's in store for you."

The second kiss was equally as tentative until she double-tapped his lips with the tip of her tongue and he greeted her tongue with his own and deepened the kiss. Her tongue reacquainted itself with his and she sighed and rubbed his back and finally pushed him away.

"Take a quick shower or a long soak. I'll be downstairs making coffee and trying to get my emotions under control. I'm so happy and you know how I always turn into a blubbering girl when I get this happy."

"Yeah, I do stink. Don't be too long, Jenn. I don't want you out of my sight for more than a few minutes. This isn't a dream, is it? I'm not going to wake up and find myself back in Moab, am I? This is real, isn't it?"

She held up his left hand in her left and he saw their wedding bands. "It's real, Chuck, I promise you."

* * *

**A/N: **The quote about pride, experience, reason and heart is misused courtesy of Graymind who writes in another TV fanfic but who is much better than I am. I rewrote this after getting permission from him/her to use the quote. I butchered the quote by adding my prose but it's readable as is. **

**APR

* * *

**

Nik's Notes: _There's going to be a raunchy and smutty epilogue on his profile page if you're into that sort of thing. I'll post it the day after this one gets posted unless I'm down south in the sunlight. I always wondered why he brought that damned legal tablet to bed with us. Now I know. Oh, APR, you kinky man. It's the only 'M' thing he's ever done. Well, ever written about._

_Nicole, for the last time._


End file.
